


Writing on Pictures

by Xazz



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Drabble, F/M, Feels, Fluff, M/M, Other, request
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-03
Updated: 2013-04-24
Packaged: 2017-12-04 04:00:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 37
Words: 23,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/706303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xazz/pseuds/Xazz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We are all nothing but stories and the collection of images seen through someone else's eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Neverending Story

**Author's Note:**

> Fic for pic requests on my blog. All images are sources by [x]

[[x](http://bocoboco.ciao.jp/)]

He wasn’t quite sure what made him here. What sort of witchcraft and sorcery, for indeed it was such. It was like Altair was standing in a fog, a great glittering fog full of ice and diamonds. He didn’t moved, and then at once it cleared. There was a young man and a chair in the clear, white place. His dress was strange but familiar like he’d seen it in a dream.

Slowly he walked over to the young man. “Hello,” they said with a bizarre, thick, accent, and Altair knew he wasn’t speaking Arabic, or any language Altair knew, yet he could understand him just fine.

“What is this place?” because what else could he ask.

“I don’t know. It’s a nice place though,” the young man smiled and he looked old. How peculiar. “Who are you?”

“Altair.”

“Altair?  _The_  Altair?”

“Possibly.”

The young man jumped up from the chair and grabbed Altair’s hand, shaking it vigorously, “I’m Ezio. You’re such an inspiration, I thought I’d let you know,” he said, smiling great and wide at him.

Altair blinked, taken aback. “Really?” he asked, surprised.

“Yes,” Ezio continued to smile.

“Oh, well, thank you.”

“I know all about you actually,” Ezio continued. “You’re one of the greatest men our Order has ever had.”

“Heh, thank you,” because he did know how to be humble. “Though it seems strange that you know everything about me. But I know nothing about you. Perhaps you could enlighten me?”

“Of course, of course!” and Ezio sat on the chair again. “I was born in Italy, in Florence, do you know where that is?” Altair did not. He shook his head. His lips twitched in amusement when Ezio started talking about his home. Clearly he loved the city, and growing up was so different than it had been for Altair. As Ezio talked Altair was filled with greater knowledge, all the words and events wasn’t saying suddenly filled Altair’s mind.

Altair saw an old man in an old city, tired, and ready to rest, cutting through Templars. He saw a young man watch his family get hanged. He saw vengeance on the edge of a sword enacted with brutal prejudice. He saw love won and lost, mostly lost. Loves he’d never have and loves he could never hold. Altair frowned at the young man.

Altair walked over to the chair, Ezio looked at him, still in a good mood. “Ezio,” Altair said and leaned against the chair, he reached out and pressed his hand to the side of Ezio’s face.

“Hmm?” he asked, “What is it Altair?” and he grabbed Altair’s face.

“It’s time to rest,” Altair said somberly.

“What?”

“It’s time to rest. You’ve had a long life. Now it is time to rest.”

Ezio blinked at him and his smile faded a little, “Yes,” he said, “I suppose it is.” Then he smiled again, “You must rest too,” he said.

“I cannot,” he said. Now he knew why Ezio was familiar and unfamiliar. They’d done this many times now. Each time Ezio was unwilling to let go, unwilling to move on. “We are tied together. I can’t go without you.”

“Oh,” Ezio seemed very troubled by this, still holding onto Altair’s hand. “We’ll go together then?”

“Yes. That seems like a good idea,” Altair said and allowed himself to smile just a bit.

He wasn’t quite sure what made him here…


	2. Praise

[[x](http://www.y-gallery.net/view/732467/)]

Even with the bells ringing malik left the lattice open, watching the sky for a tell tale sign of white flashing overhead, or the sound of guards running near. Nothing came and the bells tolled on, so loud he could barely think clearly, let alone at all. But there was nothing he could do. altair would come, or he would never come again and it made ice slide down Malik’s spine at the thought. 

White flashed, and he heard someone, something, drop down into the walled garden. Malik looked up but nothing else moved. Wary he moved around to the front of his counter. As he did a shape lurched into the doorway, four fingered hand grasping the edge of the door, leaving the shape of his bloodied hand behind. “Altair-

“It is done,” the words were like gravel to Malik’s ears, a grating noise as Altair stumbled forward a few feet, his robes bloodied. “Majd Adin is no more,” but Altair was not as strong as he wished to pretend and stumbled. Malik caught him. Altair was wounded, in the stomach, the flow steady, but slow.

“You idiot,” Malik hissed at him, holding onto him tightly so Altair did not fully fall to the ground. He took a step back and found the edge of his desk.

Altair blinked up at him with glassy eyes. “Did I do good Malik?” he asked, tongue flicking across chapped lips. He reached into his pouch and Malik saw the red and white of a feather, grasped tightly in bloody fingers.

Malik looked down at him, “Yes,” Malik said. “You did good,” and Altair slumped against him, grasping at his back, feather falling onto Malik’s desk as he legs seemed to slide out from under him. Malik grabbed him tightly. “Rest now brother,” he said in as gentle a way he could muster, “I will take care of the rest,” he promised.

“Oh good,” Altair sighed. “Oh good,” he said again lowly, allowing himself to press against Malik, knowing everything was okay now. Malik wouldn’t let him fall.


	3. Don't Look

[[x](http://www.y-gallery.net/view/906634/)]

There was always that sort of silence that fell upon the bureau even when Altair came to rest after a day out on the field. A sort of strange feeling of ease that settled into Malik’s bones even as he worked that he couldn’t quite explain. Too long being someone’s friend, even when you wanted to hate them, seemed to train your body to do things a certain way.

Like now after Altair had shed his weapons and armor and lay back on the rugs and pillows. A pale smoke drifted into the bureau and now and then Malik heard the bubbling of the hookah. Not enough to be bothersome and it mixed with the olibanum burned in small quantities during the evening to make the entire bureau smell of good smoke and old good memories like reading an old favorite book.

From the garden Altair sighed blissfully and a new wisp of smoke managed to find it’s way into the bureau and not through the lattice. Malik frowned a little and once again was tempted to go out into the garden. He held himself back though, he was still mad at Altair. Ten minutes later he gave in, because he wanted a break and couldn’t remember the last time he’d had hookah.

Altair looked up in surprise when Malik stood in the doorway to the bureau, though for Altair surprise was just a shift in the set of his mouth and the angle of his head. The sun vanished from the sky overhead and Malik knew if he could see it would be kissing the horizon casting Altair in cool colors and making his robes appear lavender. “Need something?” he asked, holding the nozzle of the hookah hose delicately between his fingers.

“It is my hookah,” was all Malik said, taking the pipe right from his hand before sitting down next to him. Altair made a strange face at him even as Malik took a hit and breathed out a cloud of white smoke. He ignored Altair and the Assassin shrugged, getting confortable again, crossing his ankles in as he lay back. Malik held onto the pipe before Altair wanted it back and they passed it back and forth even as it grew darker out, the sun’s afterglow making the sky turn red and the clouds into purple bruises. Malik felt good, light, and the silence was comfortable, easy, like it had been.

“Don’t you ever-“

“Ever what?” Altair asked when Malik cut himself off because it was stupid anyway.

Malik snorted, finding his own stupidity funny. He was perhaps more than a bit high right now. “Don’t you ever wear your hood down Altair? I swear it must be sewn onto your head.”

Altair’s mouth formed into a slant, “I like it up,” was all he said and sat up. “What’s it to you?”

“Nothing,” Malik rolled his eyes. They fell back into silence for a time before Malik suddenly pulled his hood up.

“What are you doing?” Altair was clearly eyeing him.

“Look at me I’m Altair,” Malik teased him and doing his best impression of Altair’s characteristic scowl. Altair scowled at him and Malik found it horrendously hilarious. “Lighten up,” Malik laughed at him.

“I don’t find that amusing.”

“Too bad.”

“I do like you with your hood up though,” Altair said and Malik realized he was leaning over to him a bit.

Malik blinked in surprise, his brain switching subjects rapidly to keep up, though it was still a bit slow thanks to the hash in his system. “Oh…” clever as usual Malik. “It is nothing,” he pushed his hood back.

“No, I like it,” and Altair tugged his hood back up, keeping a hold of it. “You should wear it up more,” they were very close and like the an old book you’d gone back to read Malik was reminded of things he tried to forget he’d ever done.

“Why?” Malik asked him, eyes darting across Altair’s face, unable to keep still, like a dragonfly at sunset.

“Because we look the same,” Altair said, Malik licked his lips and up close Malik could see the way Altair was watching his mouth. “Just as always.”

Even high Malik knew what Altair was going to do, and how Malik wouldn’t really stop him. Some things you could not change no matter how much you wanted to. “Don’t,” Malik said, “… If someone knew… or saw,” he tried.

“Then close your eyes if you don’t want to see,” Altair said softly, his words a tickle of air on Malik’s face. Malik closed his eyes and Altair kissed him.


	4. Blister

Sometimes, it was easy to forget how small you were. How, in the vast eyes of Allah how tiny and insignificant your entire world could be. Looking out across the vast desert made Altair feel small and meaningless. Behind him Malik was starting the fire for the night, to keep animals away, and help keep them warm at night on their way to Alamut, on word of Al Mualim. He needed something and someone killed.

The sun had turned the sand and shrub land red like rubies, or rust, the few trees and shrubs on the land were scraggy and gnarled. Twisted from the sand and wind that whistled across the land like singing birds.

“Altair,” Malik called. Altair turned around and looked over his shoulder at Malik, “what are you looking at?” he asked. Altair said nothing and turned back around. The sun was an angry red eye on the horizon before slumping down into the earth.

Malik came and stood next to him, “What are you looking at?” Malik asked again. Altair shook his head, still saying nothing. “Come have something to eat,” and Altair followed Malik back to their little fire and sat down on the ground. Malik had water boiling for tea and divided out their cold rations. Altair watched the sun vanish over the lip of the world as he ate, not talking to Malik, allowing the sound of the fire to be the only noise between them, but accepting the tea when Malik handed it to him.

By the light of the fire and the afterglow of the sun that faded into starlight they checked their gear, mending anything that needed mending, sharpening weapons as required and watering the camels. When they finished Malik took out a pen and ink and a notebook, and wrote, or drew, Altair didn’t know which, he didn’t ask. Altair sort of lay back on his elbows, head tipped back and looked at the stars, feeling lost in the vastness of it, of the world, of Allah. He didn’t normally have these thoughts, he wasn’t much a man for the metaphysical, but sometimes he just-

“It’s late,” Malik said with a yawn. Indeed it was, the moon was up and full. “We should sleep,” Altair just nodded. “What’s with you tonight? You’ve been so quiet,” her said tersely. “Well, I mean, more than usual,” Altair just shrugged. “Don’t give me that,” Malik said with a roll of his eyes.

“I don’t have much to say.”

“Well isn’t  _that_  the truth,” and Altair scowled at him, “Don’t look at me like that. You practically handed me that one on a silver platter,” Malik said as he pulled out his sleeping roll. He removed his boots and his outer tailed robe and sash to sleep in just his shirt and pants. Altair just watched, silent, fingers tented in front of him. Malik gave Altair a look, “Speak,” he ordered. Altair said nothing. “Uhg, whatever,” and he climbed into his sleeping roll and slept with his back facing Altair and the fire.

Altair watched Malik sleep for a while, not feeling tired. There were insects singing in the night and when Altair looked at the stars they seemed to be every different shade. He knew everyone said the night sky was black. Altair had never seen the night sky as black. It was deep blues and greens and reds and purples, whirled together like clay. It was wonderful and humbling and he let him get lost. He closed his eyes in the starlight.

He got up when he opened his eyes again and shed his boots and robes and hood as he walked around the fire to Malik and nudged him. Malik woke sharply and moved to grab whoever was waking him’s throat. Altair just caught him by the wrist. “Altair?” he asked, half asleep.

“Just me,” he said, the first words he’d said all night.

“What are- Altair!” Malik huffed as Altair squeezed into the bedroll with him. Malik gave a sigh of the long suffering but wriggled to accomodate Altair’s frame. “Thank god you’re skinny,” he grumbled.

“Not skinny,” Altair said said, pressing his face into Malik’s neck. He didn’t have to look to see Malik rolling his eyes.

“You going to tell me what you were looking at all this time?” Malik asked him with a bit of a yawn and they both moved to find a comfortable orientation to lay, their legs ended up tangling together.

Altair looked at Malik and saw the vast desert and the sunset and the swirling night sky and all stars in between. “You,” he said and pressed close.


	5. Qualities of a Lover

[[x](http://www.y-gallery.net/view/657666/)]

Ezio could be… enthusiastic. Perhaps that was a good word for it. Leonardo knew that of course. He knew Ezio after all. Though sometimes he did wish the younger man could show a bit restraint. The windows were still open for God’s sake. 

Even as Leonardo fielded kisses pressed urgently to his mouth he tried to at least give them some privacy. He knew Ezio should know better. The boy could just be impatient, and as said, enthusiastic.

Leonardo grabbed one of the curtains to yank it over the window. He managed to get it closed half when he saw, from the corner of his eye, someone staring. Leonardo turned his head, Ezio giving a half grunt, half whine, of protest, to perhaps get a better look. A guard was standing on the rooftop opposite Leonardo’s window, clearly seeing what they were doing. Oh well that wouldn’t do.

“Ezio,” Leonardo interrupted.

“Hmm?” Ezio asked, the front of his shirt half open.

“I think there’s something you need to take care of,” and he glanced out the window. Ezio followed his line of sight and released him. Leonardo barely had time to say anything else before Ezio was out the window and had jumped the fifteen feet between buildings like he was flying.

Leonardo looked away and finished closing the curtains around his room. He didn’t like violence and didn’t always approve of Ezio’s life style or choices. But… he’d be damned if he was sent back to Rome for sodomy charges, even if they hadn’t been able to prove anything. He could approve of the elegant design of a lover who would ensure he never had to suffer such things again.


	6. The Surprise is Good for You

Where was the fun of things without a good surprise? Malik enjoyed surprises as well as enjoyed surprising Altair since he always reacted badly to them. By badly he of course meant like a petulant five year old when you happened to surprise him. Not that it was easy of course. But Malik knew where Altair was vulnerable and how to get a rise out of him (in more than one way).

The cramped bathroom was thick with steam when Malik slid through the door, tho sound of rushing water masking the sound of the door’s soft click as it opened and closed. Their shower was walled on three and a half sides, with a place to step in, but no shower curtain. He knew Altair wasn’t paying attention and stripped before peeking into the shower. Altair was rinsing his hair. Perfect.

Malik slipped up behind Altair and put his hands on his hips. Altair literally jumped a foot and nearly slipped. Malik grabbed him tightly to him. “Holy god,” Altair gasped, suddenly short of breath. “Do not. Do that!” he yelped.

Malik just chuckled, “Well I did,” he said into Altair’s ear, the spray of water hitting Altair’s chest.

“Ruining my shower I see,” Altair said pointedly.

“I thought more of improving it,” Malik said with a grin, cupping his chin and turning Altair’s head to make him turn so Malik could mouth along his jaw and up to his lips. Altair groaned despite himself and sagged against Malik, reaching back to grab Malik’s hip with one hand. There was a brief push and pull before Malik had Altair mostly against the wall of the shower. “Definitely improving it,” he agreed with himself, his hands getting a bit personal and enjoying the sweet sound of Altair’s affirmative moan.


	7. Shut Up

[[x](http://doubleleaf.deviantart.com/)]

This shouldn’t have happened. Altair was better than this and yet… this was it. Some part of Malik was scared, that help wouldn’t arrive in time. Altair had barely noticed his own wounds until he’d collapsed. Malik had had to send his men to get supplies from the infirmary in the upper levels of the fortress. He himself had stayed, he wouldn’t leave Altair alone, he’d seen what happened when he did that last time: never again.

Altair had his head on Malik’s lap, crimson staining his clothes, even his hood was spotted with droplets of blood though it lay crumpled on Malik’s lap revealing the rest of the small cuts and bruises on Altair’s face. Such wounds, from an old man no less. Altair’s eye lids fluttered, trying to stay open, though his eyes were out of focus, slightly glassy. Malik watched them roll in their sockets, wishing there was something he could do.

He was surprised when, blearily, Altair reached up and touched Malik’s chin with his finger tips. “Altair-

Knuckles pressed against Malik’s lower lips and chin. “It hurts,” Altair moaned softly.

“Shut up,” Malik said, reaching to grab his hand. Altair’s cut hand closed around Malik’s fingers instead. “Just shut up,”  he said again firmly, twisting their hands around so Malik could put Altair’s back down. “You’ll be okay,” he said and ran his hand through Altair’s hair gently. Altair whined and grabbed Malik’s hand again. “Altair-

“Don’t,” Altair said weakly, holding onto Malik’s hand tightly. “Don’t let me go,” he said, looking at Malik desperately.

“I won’t,” Malik promised and he looked up at the sound of boots. His men had returned with medical supplies. “You’ll be all right,” he assured Altair who seemed a bit more at peace when Malik said that. 


	8. A Life too Tight

[[x](http://junkeemunky.deviantart.com/art/bleeding-effect-195188412)]

There was something sort of nice about death. No one ever told you how quiet it was, or how painless it was. Life was pain and death took it all away.

Desmond looked down at himself, flexing his hands. Everything felt tight. Too tight. His clothes, his skin, his body. He rubbed at the knuckles on his hand and like peeling paint it flecked right off his skin, painless, easy.

He rubbed the first layer off his naked hands, under were hands in fingerless gloves, ones with hard, blunted, fingertips and chewed nailed. He peeled his skin, his clothes, his body off like picking at plastic wrap. His body fell away into a new body. One in a uniform and a tomahawk and ‘justice’ on his lips.

It didn’t  _feel_  right though. Still too tight, uncomfortable. He started again. Off went the skin of his hands and his clothes. He ripped into his chest, pulling away the thin membrane between selves. Under was another uniform. Red and white and one glove, two blades, and a cape, this time his lips formed around the word ‘revenge’.

But it was still too tight. There was more. He started on his face, sloshing off the long hair for nearly none, a scowl instead of a smirk. Scars replaced scars, different, like constellations from a distant planet. He kicked off the last shred on his boots and stood in white, death wrapped around him like a cloak, rolling ‘duty’ around in his mouth like a sweet.

This one felt the best by far. But he knew it still wasn’t right. The skin pulled at him uncomfortably.

So off went this skin too till it joined the pile of stripped layers around him, ringing him like the nest of some morbid bird. Desmond let out a long, satisfied sigh as the last shred fell away, finally feeling like himself. Finally feeling like he could move forward.

Beyond.


	9. Sweet Dreams

When Desmond came into the kitchen, sat down, and said absolutely nothing Lucy knew something was wrong. Especially when she tentatively put a bowl of cereal in front of him and he just stared at it. She looked at Shaun, who’d filched a paper from outside though seemed to be having trouble reading it.

He did notice her giving him a look though and looked over the top of his paper at her. He rose his brows. She looked at him then gave Desmond a look he didn’t notice, and then back at Shaun. His brows just went up further a moment and he went back to his paper without comment.

“Desmond,” Lucy said, Desmond looked up sharply. “Something wrong?”

“… No,” he said though seemed ill at ease.

“Looks like it. What’s up?”

“I just… had a very strange dream last night,” he admitted.

She swallowed, “The Bleeding Effect?” she asked, hopeful it wasn’t but fearing it was.

“No,” he said.

“What was your dream then?” she asked as Rebecca crawled out of bed and to the fridge, grabbing a Red Bull while she thought Lucy was preoccupied with Desmond. She saw though. No coffee for Rebecca this morning.

“I was in a park. I think I was rock climbing-

“Oh this’ll be good,” Shaun said dully from behind his paper, feigning unimpressed though from this angle Lucy could see Shaun burning a hole through his paper looking at Desmond.

“And?” Lucy asked.

“Uh…”

“Desmond?”

“Well,” he said slowly. “All my favorite foods started falling from the sky. I was  _really_  stoked about it.”

Rebecca laughed, “Sounds like my sort of dream,” she said and knocked Desmond’s shoulder. Lucy could only agree.

Shaun huffed, rolled his eyes and went back to his paper muttering, ‘stupid Americans’.


	10. Pig Lord

So it was a surprise to absolutely no one, including Altair, that Altair had a tendency to worry about things. Worry about everything actually. But especially about his baby brother. Just conditioning after five damn years. He couldn’t help it. He was a child’s worst nightmare in the form of a worrying, overprotective, guardian.

Malik had convinced him to do this though, since Malik could convince him to do anything. But it was good for them. For all of them. After the whole thing Altair liked to keep Desmond close, or at home. But he couldn’t be scared all the time. So they’d gone to a fair. He was having flashbacks of the first time he’d taken Desmond to a fair and his brother, three years old, had gotten  _lost_. This was better though. Malik was with him, nothing could go wrong.

This fair had a petty zoo. Desmond dragged the both of them in to look at the animals. His brother got excited to pet the sheep and Malik held Altair back as Desmond went from pen to pen, petting animals.

“Malik-

“It’s  _fine_ ,” Malik said, stressing it actually. “You can see him, he’s happy, nothing’s going to happen,” and Malik looped an arm around Altair’s waist. Altair whined a little. “Don’t you know the eyesight rule? If you can see them they can see you and nothing bad can happen,” he squeezed Altair and pressed his face into Altair’s neck. Altair knew Malik was just trying to get him to relax. Ever since he’d gotten back he’d been… well, he hadn’t been one-hundred percent. But he was getting better. “Now c’mon, relax a little.”

Altair took a breath, “Okay… okay, you’re right,” he said looking at Malik.

“Of course I’m right,” and Malik gave him a kiss on the lips, clearly to distract him.

“You like hearing me say that too much,” Altair grumbled.

“I’ll admit,” Malik smirked, “I do enjoy being right,” and he kissed Altair again, not minding that there  _were_ other people in here. They were standing out of the way though and they both knew Altair was only allowing this level of PDA because he was wired.

When they broke apart Altair scanned the little area for Desmond’s seven sizes too big white hoodie. His stomach bottomed out when he didn’t see it. “Where’s Desmond?” he asked.

“Don’t. Panic,” Malik said taking his hand and squeezing it. “He’s here.”

“Yeah but what if-

“No what ifs. He’s here. Desmond!” he called. They heard laughter. “See. Fine,” and tugged Altair over to it. As they walked it turned into a shriek and Altair bolted clear across the petting zoo.

He found Desmond had, somehow (he’d given up wondering how Desmond did some things after he kept crawling out of his crib when he was a baby), gotten into one of the pens and was surrounded by… pigs. The shriek had been that of utter delight of being swarmed by the piglets in the pen and knocking him over. Desmond was busy trying to pet  _all_  of them and some other kids noticed.

“Desmond,” Altair said and his little brother looked at him with this  _huge_  smile on his face.

“Look, look Altair! Piggies!” and he held up one of the piglets up to him under the armpits. Altair pressed his hand to the bridge of his nose.

“What’cha got there, Des?” Malik came up next to him.

“Piggies, piggies,” and Desmond managed to stand up, the piglets milling around his feet.

“Des, you can’t be in there,” Altair said.

“Awww,” Desmond whined.

“You’re ganna get us kicked out. Say goodbye to the piggies, you need to pet them on this side of the fence,” Altair sighed.

“Ooookay,” Desmond pouted and walked over to the fence, the piglets trailing after him and raised his arms. Altair picked him up and put him on the right side of the fence. Desmond then spent another ten minutes petting the piglets before moving on to the pen with goats in them.


	11. It Has a Face!

In his downtime, between sessions in the Animus Desmond liked to doodle. Nothing too amazing but something to occupy his hands and mind. After Rebecca had seen him she’d found some markers from somewhere for Desmond to play with. That was cool in his book.

Desmond was just doodling now, bored, not thinking about much, when someone came and stood over his shoulder. After a moment he turned his head and saw it was Shaun with a steaming mug. “Can I help you?” he asked quirking a brow at him.

“What is that?” Shaun motioned with his mug at Desmond’s drawing.

Desmond looked back at the paper. “Uh—

“Is that a carrot in a bikini?” Shaun asked.

“… Maybe,” Desmond said.

“That’s a bloody carrot in a bloody bikini. It even has a  _face_ ,” and then as if to further prove his agitation took a stern sip from his mug.

“It does,” Desmond agreed.

Shaun stared at Desmond a moment, looking the text book definition of ‘oh my god this fucking stupid American’. Then, without a word, he left.


	12. Feather-play

[[x](http://raeoffrecord.weebly.com/)]

Malik had his own work to do. Not like that idiot Altair ever did any, or when he did it was like Malik was pulling teeth. Getting Altair to sit and work as he should as Mentor was one of the most infuriating and frustrating things Malik had to deal with. Sometimes after a day of working and making Altair do his work all Malik wanted was to just relax and not worry or fret over every little thing he worried or fretted about on a day to day basis so the Order didn’t crumble around them, especially with Altair making plans to go to Cyprus. For some god forsaken stupid reason that Malik was sure was really only to see how far Altair could push Malik until he snapped and smashed his head into a wall.

So Malik burned olibanum in his pot and found a comfortable place to read in his room, by a window, in the upper reaches of Masyaf, the olibanum filling the room with it’s scent. Down below he could hear  training and sword fighting and it was easy for Malik to tune out. He did look when a roar rose up from below and he looked down. He saw the distinct black robes of Altair’s office before he shrugged them off and hopped into the ring, naked sword in hand. Malik just rolled his eyes and went back to his book. Idiot.

Now and then Malik heard the sounds of cheering and he’d glance down in time to see Altair trounce whoever had decided to fight him. Well at least Altair was expending all that coiled energy he had. Good riddance really. He looked out the window again when everything grew quiet and saw the ring and courtyard were empty. Huh. Well at least that was over.

He thumbed through a few more pages of his book when his door was suddenly shoved open. Malik looked up, startled, and was even  _more_  startled by who closed his door firmly. “What happened to your shirt?” Malik asked Altair who was now in his room in only his pants and his scars all riddled across his chest and arms. He was even sans hood which was itself just rather startling since Malik rarely saw Altair this exposed.

Altair looked at himself like he’d only noticed it for the first time, then back at Malik. His eyes seemed extra bright, and a touch sharp. “I lost it,” he said and took a few staggered steps towards Malik before falling to his knees in front of him.

Malik looked down at him, “And your robes?” he asked.

Altair smiled, it was strange, slightly blissed, and familiar. Malik couldn’t place  _why_  it was familiar though, or why it sent a ripple down his spine. “My room,” Altair said and leaned forward, placing his head on Malik’s inner thigh, looking up at him. There was a slight sheen of sweat on his face and arms, clearly from fighting.

“What are you doing?” Malik asked him, watching Altair carefully, an inkling of a feeling that he was going to do something stupid. Altair’s grin was amused and he pressed into Malik’s thigh. “Altair,” Malik said warningly and grabbed his chin, looking at him sternly. “No.”

“No?” he sounded genuinely confused. Altair rocked forward on his knees to a sort of half standing position, grasping the arms of Malik’s chair in his hands, sort of looking over Malik, looking down at him.  Malik looked back and swallowed a little because the eyes Altair were looking at him with were barely nice. Almost… hungry. Then he pressed a firm kiss to Malik’s mouth. It was hot and insistant and tasted like lust. When Altair pulled away from the kiss, his eyes were dilated, more so now. “Yes,” Altair said, the word long and lazy from his mouth.

Well it explained quite a bit now. That look in Altair’s eyes, his strange sort of tipsiness. He’d seen Altair like this after fighting, more often after killing someone, but beating the shit out of them worked too. This was the first time since all this had happened that Altair had been in a real, proper, fight. Malik hadn’t been aware till now that Altair was one of those men who fucked after a fight. He still scowled at Altair but didn’t really want to say no. But like hell he’d just let it happen, he had standards. “Convince me,” he short of growled.

Altair grinned and brushed his nose against Malik’s, pressing another sort of urgent kiss to Malik’s mouth, though not nearly as mean or roughly. It was practically gentle in comparison to the last one. Malik enjoyed that. As Altair kissed him he tugged at Malik’s robes, tugging at the wrap around his waist to loosen it along with the ties that held his tunic closed. Malik made a small noise in the back of his throat when Altair pressed his hands to Malik’s chest and stomach, feeling ever contour of his body as though to memorize it.

Malik wouldn’t fail to admit he liked the attention, at least to himself. Saying it aloud to Altair was something that didn’t happen because he knew it’d go right to that moron’s head. Altair kissed his lips and then moved to his face and along his jaw and down his neck, nibbling lightly at the pulse point on Malik’s throat that made Malik’s heart beat faster, hurriedly. He nosed down Malik’s chest, seeming to kiss or lick every inch of skin, getting lower and lower until he was kneeling between Malik’s legs, looking up at him, his face against the warm skin of Malik’s stomach. Altair nuzzles Malik’s stomach, his tongue flicking against the curve of his belly button. He seemed very content right there, arms looped over Malik’s thighs, kissing the skin of his stomach.

He watched Altair become suddenly alert and follow his gaze before Altair hand suddenly snatched something from the chair next to Malik. Malik looked back at Altair and saw him rolling the stem of a feather between his fingers. “Are you ticklish Malik?” he asked with a smirk.

“No,” Malik said.

“We’ll see,” and he brushed the feather against Malik’s stomach. The sensation was pleasant  but not ticklish. He’d had a younger brother, he’d learned to  _not_  be ticklish. Altair frowned when he didn’t get the reaction out of Malik he expected. Malik just rose his brows at him and Altair stuffed the end of the feather into his mouth before using Malik’s legs to help him half stand once more.

Malik grunted and wrapped his hand around the back of Altair’s neck when the man shifted one hand  _under_ Malik’s thigh and lifted. “What are you doing, novice?” he asked as the tip of the feather brushed against his chest, Altair’s other hand sliding up inside his thigh. Oh, well…

Altair’s reply with just a smirk and to nudge Malik’s chin with the feather playfully.


	13. Don't Make Me Go

[[x](http://myantiquehabibi.tumblr.com/post/33889798376)]

Desmond felt like he was in a dream. One of those dreams where you didn’t know how you got there but you were there now and everything way okay and you didn’t need or want to be anywhere else but right there. Of course everything was okay.

Lucy looked at him with a smile, “Hello Desmond,” she said.

“What’s that?” he looked at the blue swaddled bundle.

She laughed at him, “It’s a baby,” she said.

“Oh,” he sat down dumbly next to the bed he’d found her in. “Who’s baby?” he asked her, still confused but okay with his confusion.

“Did you hit your head or something?” she asked him.

“I… don’t think so,” he said slowly.

She kissed him on the cheek and said into his ear, “ _Our_  baby.” Desmond blinked and Lucy laughed again. “You did hit your head,” she teased him.

“Maybe,” he said but felt himself smiling. Tentatively he leaned over and kissed her on the temple. “They’s so little,” he said, looking down at the swaddled baby and offered them his hand. They reached out and grabbed Desmond’s finger tightly in their little hand. “Good grip kid,” he said with a grin and the baby gurgled.

Desmond looked up when he felt a presence. He frowned, confused again. “Sixteen?” he asked. The man was standing on the opposite side of the bed, looking down at them, looking troubled.

“Hello Desmond,” his normal joking, sarcastic, air was gone. He seemed reserved. “So this is where you got off to.”

“Excuse me?”

“You shouldn’t be here,” and Sixteen looked around. “This is really bad,” he added and looked at Desmond.

“What?” the other man wasn’t making any sense.

“This isn’t real,” Sixteen said looking back at him. “This is your mind’s wishful thinking created by the Animus. This is dangerous.”

Then it all snapped back into place. Desmond knew what he was doing here. He’d been wandering his memories, trying to piece his mind back together. He’d found a strange room with nothing in it, unlike the other rooms he’d seen before. It’d been empty until he’d stepped inside and then he couldn’t remember where he’d come from, how he’d gotten here or where he was. He looked at the scene in front of him, then at Clay. “So?” he asked.

“We need to go,” Sixteen said.

“Why?”

“Because you can get  _stuck_  in places like this,” and suddenly Sixteen was at his side, hand on his shoulder. “Stuck and never get out, lost, forever.”

“Like it’d be a bad thing,” Desmond said and gently ran his thumb along the baby’s soft cheek. The baby made a baby’s gurgle.

“Desmond. We  _need_  to go,” and he pulled Desmond away, to his feet.

“Hey!”

“You’ll get trapped in here, we’re going,” and Sixteen shoved Desmond towards the exit.

“No. Let me go,” he ordered and tried to get around Sixteen. But Sixteen just grabbed him and pushed and shoved. “I want to stay!”

“No you don’t! You idiot if you stay you’ll never get out,” and then he was shoved out of the room and back into the more familiar rooms and hallways of Animus Island. “It’s a death sentence.”

“No!” Desmond cried when the doorway closed and became a wall. He shoved Sixteen away and pressed his hands against the wall. “No,” he stared at what had just been.”

“I’m sorry,” Sixteen said softly, “It was for your own good.” Desmond slid down to his knees against the wall, fingers digging into the unyielding surface. “You need to wake up Desmond, you need to-

“Go away!” he yelled. “Just… go away,” the rest came out broken and torn, the way his heart felt. “Leave me alone.” 

Sixteen said nothing before, “Okay. I’m just trying to help,” and then the ghost in the machine fell away. Desmond was hunched over his knees, head against the wall. It took him a while to realize he was crying.


	14. Good Ending

[[x](http://dokyakutu.deviantart.com/art/Connor-Aveline-III-337751137)]

After a long trip from Boston Connor looked forward to two things, putting on some fresh clothes, and sitting down on something that wasn’t a horse’s saddle. Even after so many years the damn thing still made his legs ache something fierce. He pushed the manor’s door open, he didn’t bother with a lock like Achilles had. Everyone knew Connor lived here, no one was dumb enough to mess with his home.

Or so it thought. There were apparently exceptions to every rule.

He’d made it perhaps ten steps inside, musing about what he needed to do when he felt something lash around his foot and the next thing he knew was he was the floor rushing to meet his face. Caught unaware he managed to at least not face plant, but he did still fall forward to the ground.

A boot pressed against his back and he stiffened. They didn’t  _feel_  very heavy though… Oh god.

The person who’s unfooted him rolled him over onto his back. “Hello Connor,” Aveline said, smiling down at him mischievously.

“A-Aveline!” he short of yelped and froze when she put one leg on either side of him and sat down on his waist. “What are you doing here? I thought you were in Philadelphia.”

“I got back yesterday,” she said and tugged on the whip in his hand, finally pulling it off Connor’s ankle. “And you’d left no note,” she didn’t seem pleased by this.

“Uh…” he raised his hands in a surrendering way, hoping to avoid whatever crazy ideas she was clearly having and also wishing she’d get off him before this became a problem… more of a problem. Damnit. “Sorry?” he asked.

“Oh, you will be,” she said looping her whip up with a smirk. This wouldn’t end well for him.


	15. A Little Game

[[x](http://doubleleaf.deviantart.com/)]

Ezio was a shadow. A silent hunter of the dark places, moving stealthy through crowds and unseen over rooftops. Sometimes he startled birds…but they didn’t matter! He dropped down unseen from above and was a guard’s worst nightmare. He was anyone’s worst nightmare honestly. One did not want to mee Ezio in a dark alley. Or a lighted alley. Let it be said alleys were not places you wanted to meet Ezio and leave it at that.

Ezio had many targets, some of them higher profile than others. All of them were important though. Sometimes he took hits for nobles, others they were personal affairs. But everyone who knew Ezio knew that if you earned his eye and were scheduled to die you best write a will. Ezio was not someone who ever failed a mission, his pride would not allow it.

This mission was personal. Leonardo had been ignoring him lately. He wasn’t fond of that. He liked the attention and usually Leonardo was never too busy for him. Except when he was. Which was why Ezio now had a new target. He was being careful about it though since he didn’t want Leonardo know.

So ever so carefully, ever so slowly Ezio edged closer and closer to Leonardo. He reached out and carefully… slowly…

Snatched the hat right off Leonardo’s head!

“Ezio!” Leonardo cried. Ezio just laughed as he ran away, hat clutched in his hand.


	16. Atlantis

[[x](http://guntama.deviantart.com/)]

Hawk found their Little Bird outside. It was raining and Atlantis was a jewelry box of a city. All glitter and shimmering jewels. Hawk didn’t like the rain, he could never place exactly  _why_ , but he did. It reminded him of Philadelphia and pain and a deep bottomless void, one that had consumed him. Usually he stayed inside during the rain, but it was always raining in Atlantis. Normally the others would have dealt with this. Normally. Hawk knew he couldn’t leave it to them all the time, this was a big deal.

His Little Bird was sitting on a pier on the opposite side of the inlet that separated Atlantis from where they’d made base. He was sitting, staring at the city, the once and always capital of the largest nation-state there had ever been eighty-thousand years ago. Still alive, still working. Other than Juno’s factory in Rome it was the busiest place for proeathan movement on the entire planet. Rain battered against Hawk’s umbrella as he went and stood next to his Little Bird. He adjusted the umbrella to include the sitting figure though he didn’t know how much good it did seeing as he was already wet from the rain.

“Hawk,” the Little Bird said, his voice thin, strained.

“You’re not eating again,” was all Hawk said, skipping pleasantries. He knew the Little Bird had no time for them.

“I tried,” Desmond said. “Couldn’t keep it down.”

“Ready for tomorrow?”

The Little Bird gave a sort of choked laugh. “No,” he ran his hand down his glyph covered face. “But… It’ll be done.”

“Good to hear,” Hawk said. “You going to come out of the rain?”

“… No,” the Little Bird said. “I think I’ll stay out here a bit more.”

“Okay,” Hawk said, still standing by his side.

“You can go,” he said after a moment.

“I think I’ll stay too,” was all Hawk said and a comfortable, understanding, silence fell over them. This was why he and his Little Bird got on so well. The others would want to talk. Hawk knew sometimes you didn’t have to say anything for it to matter. Sometimes the loudest things you could say was just silence


	17. The End

It was gone. They were all gone. Clay. Lucy. Daniel. Warren. His parents. Shaun. Rebecca. The end had come. Yet Desmond was still here. Waiting for the end to take him too. Back where it all began and outside the world crumbled around him. A silent sentinel from a by-gone age and era.

How the hell had his life turned into this?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried looking for the source of this image and couldn't find it even using the Google method, if you know who did it let me know :)


	18. Stay a While

[[x](http://luulala.deviantart.com/art/Malik-Altair-Assassin-s-Creed-131615902)]

Malik was about to turn away, he would work while Altair was away when he saw Altair hesitate. “What is it?” he prompted the Assassin who was standing up against his desk, far closer than usual, hands grasping the edges. He could hear the soft strain of the wood under Altair’s strong hands.

Up close he could see Altair’s eyes flick all over, yet not land on Malik. “There’s som- I mean… I,” he closed his mouth, defeated by himself.

“What?” Malik asked, putting his hand on his hip.

Altair’s mouth moved, “I never…” he sighed and bowed his head. “I am a fool,” he said.

“Normally I would agree,” Altair glared at him from under his hood, “But what is this nonsense?”

“I never… I never said I was sorry,” and the words passed through Malik like he was getting hit by ocean surf. “About Kadar, about Solomon’s Temple, about… your arm,” he didn’t even look at it when he spoke of it, like Malik had only received some minor injury. “I was too proud, you… had and have every right to hate me. I just… wanted to apologize, for this pain I caused you.”

Malik’s mouth slanted into a frown. “I do not accept,” he said.

Altair’s hands slid off his desk, “I understand,” and he took a step back, to leave.

“No,” Malik said, like a parent teaching a child, “you don’t. I do not accept your apology because you are not the same man who went with me into Solomon’s Temple. And so you have nothing to apologize for.”

“Malik-

“Perhaps if I had not been so envious of you, I… would not have been so careless myself. I’m just as much to blame,” Altair looked like he was about to speak again, Malik just cut him off. He knew Altair was used to that though and thought nothing of it. “We are one. As we share the glory of our victories, so too should we share the pain of our defeat. In this way we grow closer, we grow stronger.”

Altair was silent for a moment, head bowed, “Thank you, brother,” and he looked at Malik now and stepped back to the counter.

“Rest if you need, for what lies ahead is no task for the weak.”

“I shall then,” Altair nodded. “You should to,” he laid his hand on Malik’s remaining wrist.

“Unlike you I have other-

“Rest with me,” Altair said softly once he’d removed his lips from Malik’s, his hand tightening slightly around Malik’s wrist. Malik didn’t hear himself say no.


	19. Hot Tea

[[x](http://raeoffrecord.weebly.com/)]

The morning was warm, thankfully though it wasn’t summer. Not yet. It was mid spring and the air could still be cool in the morning before the blistering heat set in. But this morning it was warm. The new sunlight trickled in through the filter of Malik’s curtains and the wooden grill shutters across his window. A faded light played across his face and the wall behind him; waking him.

Malik dragged himself out of bed, rubbing his face, stumbling into his little kitchen and found his tea and pot and the pretty white cup he preferred his tea in because it had been a gift from Kadar. He rubbed his eyes of sleep before taking the pot and going out to the front. He was expecting no one, which was why he was surprised when he found Altair sleeping in the enclosed garden. He was leaning against the wall, cushioned by pillows, in only his pants, his white robes folded up neatly next to him and his weapons and armor and effects resting in an orderly fashion on his other side.

Malik stood in the doorway, holding his pot, his face the definition of confusion. What was Altair even _doing_  here? Had he actually arrived before the pigeon? Maybe it had been attacked along the way (not something that happened often, but it  _did_  happen)? Whatever the reason Altair  _was_  here, the morning sunlight creating designs on the walls around him from the lattice.

Altair grumbled in his sleep and shifted irritably. Malik didn’t know what to make of this honestly. He looked down at his kettle. He still wanted his morning tea. His eyes shot up when Altair said something in his sleep. Curious, he moved closer, to try and make out what Altair was saying. Then Altair said, his voice low and slightly slurred, ‘Malik’. Malik’s eyebrows arched up to meet his hairline. He hadn’t expected that. He looked at Altair and again and nearly dropped his kettle… well he hadn’t expected  _that_  either.

Okay well, now what? Did Malik just leave or…? What exactly was the protocol when one of your fellow Assassins was… well… being affected in their sleep? About  _you_? Or what about the fact that it wouldn’t be the first time he’d done the same thing, only thankfully not anywhere he could be seen doing so. Altair shifted against the pillows again, and Malik decided.

He put the kettle down and quietly walked over to Altair. The other Assassin didn’t stir and with a great amount of care Malik lowered himself onto Altair’s lap. For a few moments he just watched Altair sleep and breathe. A slow and even in and out of sleep and a peace Malik only ever saw in Altair when he slept. Malik licked his lips and looked away from Altair’s face down to his clothes all folded nice and neat beside him, like they’d been taught to do. He selected the the red sash, grabbing it by one end, it unwound as he pulled it. Very calmly he manipulated Altair’s hands into his lap and draped the fabric around Altair’s wrists in such a way so that when he tugged on one side it tightened.

Malik looked up when Altair said his name again in a sigh. His lips twitched and he looked up and behind Altair at where a lamp bracket was imbedded in the wall. He shifted slightly in Altair’s lap to get a better position before reaching for the bracket to hook the other end of the sash around it, feeling the firmness in Altair’s pants as he did so. Malik had Altair’s hands half way up when the other man woke. Malik watched Altair’s eyes flash open and how they went from sleepy to alert in a few, rapid, seconds.

Altair’s arms jerked in a reactionary way and pulled Malik so close their faces were almost touching. Then Altair’s eyes focused and Malik could see him realizing what was going on. “What?” was his perfectly intelligent inquiry.

“Enjoying yourself?” Malik asked him.

“You have my hands tied,” Altair tugged gently at the bounds, bending his arms back and drawing Malik even closer.

“I do,” Malik said and then reached the rest of the way up and hooked Altair’s wrists over the lamp bracket.

“For?” Altair asked him and gave another experimental tug on wrists.

“I’m sure you know,” and Altair hissed in surprise and most likely need when Malik reached down and palmed him through his trousers.

“What a wicked thing you are,” Altair said, trying to sound blase about the whole thing. Malik just smirked. Malik slid his fingers along his trapped erection. “Most definitely wicked,” Altair gasped out. Malik took his hand away and then stood up. “Hey,” Altair whined. “Where are you going?”

Malik turned his back to Altair and walked over to his kettle, picking it up. “Would you like some tea Altair?” he asked him over his shoulder, going to the fountain.

“I’d like you to get back here is what,” Altair growled and Malik heard Altair shifting on the pillows loudly and the creak of the lamp bracket. No doubt he wanted his hands free but it wouldn’t work. Malik had _always_  been good at keeping Altair exactly where he wanted him.

Malik turned back to him, “Tea?” he asked again, half raising the kettle.

“You’ll have to help me drink it,” Altair said, having resigned himself to where he was on the wall and was sort of slumped, allowing his arms to relax above his head. “Do I get breakfast and tea?” he added.

“I wasn’t aware you ate breakfast,” since once they’d stopped being novices Altair’s eating habits had changed. No breakfast, large lunch, small dinner. Malik himself enjoyed three meals a day when he could.

“I’m willing to make an exception,” Altair said, brows raised a bit. “Except you’d have to untie me. Or-

“What do you want for breakfast?” Malik asked him without comment.

Altair shrugged, “I’ll eat whatever you make.”

“Good answer,” and then he turned and went into the bureau.

“Malik,” Altair called after him, “don’t you dare put sugar in my tea!” Malik just chuckled to himself and put the kettle on to boil.


	20. Tell the World

[[x](http://www.deviantart.com/art/ACR-Homecoming-270593932)]

The chair was new and uncomfortable, the carob wood pressing into the soft parts of his arms, the edges like knives to his delicate, old, The Apple was a heavy weight in his old hand, like it would drop right out of his fingers. Today though, as all days, he held it tight in his gnarled hand, safe and close to his person.

Altair’s head drooped, his breathing slow. He could feel the beat of his heart sluggish and weak inside his chest. He’d been here a time, though he couldn’t recall how long, all he knew was that his son, his last son, was gone, somewhere safe. His last anything, was safe, and alive. Sef was no more and Darim was not here. Had he told his boy he’d loved him before he’d locked himself away in here?

He couldn’t remember.

“Old man,” a voice, young and vibrant suddenly said. Altair lifted his head slowly, with some difficulty.

He blinked slowly, body slow to respond, “Malik?” he asked, voice worn and thin.

“Well don’t you look like Rashid,” Malik said, a smirk on his lips, “still a novice though I’m sure,” he added and placed his hand on Altair’s knee.

“I’m not a novice,” Altair grumbled, “I am Al Mualim.”

Malik laughed, young and free sounding, his laugh echoing across the empty library. “Of course you are  _habibi_ ,” Malik took his hand and squeezed it. “Ready to come home?” he asked, his voice gentle now.

Altair breathed out and felt the strain of his old lungs. Where Malik held his hand he felt like his skin was tighter, firmer,  _young_. “Am I not already?” he asked.

“No,” Malik said and squeezed his hand again.

“Home is where we are,” Altair tore his eyes away from the young vision of Malik to the new voice.

“Maria,” he breathed.

“Hello, my love,” and she leaned over him, kissing his temple, as she always did whenever he came home, a chaste welcome with the promise of a more personal moment alone when they got the chance to be together. “We’ve been waiting for you,” she smiled at Malik, and slid her hands along either of their shoulders.

“Sorry,” Altair said weakly.

“Come home, Altair,” Malik said gently, stroking the top of Altair’s hand with his thumb.

“I am,” Altair promised softly, “I’m coming,” and he found he couldn’t open his eyes again as they slid closed for the last time.


	21. Technicalities

 

  
  
[[x](http://pileonmiles.tumblr.com/post/42478231081)] [[x](http://dunwallyaoihands.tumblr.com/)]

Technically Lucy wasn’t allowed to leave the building. Technically she was confined to the tower where the higher ups could keep a watch over her. Smart cookie like her knew a lot, and then there was what she was on top of it. No wonder they kept her locked up in a tower like a precious princess.

But only technically, according to Rikken.

And… well, when did Daniel ever actually listen to Rikken in the first place anyway?

“Daniel, you’re going to get me in trouble,” Lucy hissed as he pulled her into the parking garage next to the tower and a bit underground.

“No I won’t,” Daniel said.

“I’m supposed to-

“Hey,” he put a finger to her lips, “I’m just as ranked as Rikken, and if I say you can go out, you can go out. Now c’mon,” and he took her hand, leading her over to a pair of motorcycles. Most Abstergo agents used cars, to be armored and for transport. Motorcycles were dangerous and more prone to breaking down. Assassins loved the hell out of them. “Ever ride one?” he asked her, one brow up. One of the bikes was red, the other black, both had leather jackets on the seats, helmets hanging off the handle bars. Daniel and some of his men were the only ones who rode them. Old men who ran Abstergo didn’t see the point.

She gave him a look, “Yes,” she said.

“Good,” and he picked the leather jacket off the red one and pushed it into her hands. “Put it on,” he instructed and grabbed the other jacket, putting it on. 

“You’re joking,” she said, giving him a look.

“Have you ever known me to joke?” he asked her seriously.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you crack one ever, no,” she agreed. He motioned and after a moment pulled the jacket on, zipping it on. Good christ almighty. Lucy  _really_  had to wear leather more often. If he didn’t have one before (and he didn’t) Daniel had a leather fetish now. Hot girls in hot leather jackets and on hot motorcycles? Oh this was just unfair.

“Here,” he handed her the helmet. She didn’t complain and put it on, flipping the visor up to see him. “So I was thinking we take a joy ride around Rome, see the sights, stick it to Vidic and Rikken,” and he tossed her the keys.

“Sounds like fun,” and he could hear her smile. She threw her leg over the red bike and Daniel fumbled the the helmet strap before getting it on properly. Lucy leaned down to turn on the bike and Daniel wet his lips watching. Oh this was just unfair. The bike growled into life and he quickly got on the black one.

“So,” Lucy asked as she backed the bike out, “where to first?”

‘Wherever you want,” Daniel proclaimed, joining her.

She looked at him, “Try and keep up soldier boy,” she said and slapped her visor down. The bike yowled as she gunned the throttle and Daniel actually fumbled behind her a moment before taking off after her.


	22. Beside Me

[[x](http://www.pixiv.net/member_illust.php?mode=medium&illust_id=18162746)]

The warm feeling of her body against his made Desmond feel light. She seemed to fit just right under his chin as he wrapped one arm around her. He liked it there, wanting to keep her there, because while she was there Desmond could keep her safe. He knew what happened when you let go of those you cared about, he’d seen what happened to Altair and Ezio.

Lucy got her arms around him, she didn’t have to, he never would have let her go. He liked the feeling of her embrace though. His other hand grabbed the old rope. “Ready?” he asked her, squeezing her a bit so she was flush to him.

“Ready,” she nodded, giving him a smile. Desmond cut the counterweight rope and they rocketed upwards. Desmond liked the way Lucy held onto him until they were safe back on the ground.


	23. Cause for Celebration

 

[[x](http://thelizangel.deviantart.com/)]

For an old man Edward didn’t look a day over forty, Haytham thought that with only a bit bitterness, and not a gray hair in sight. One of the last things Haytham had expected was his father to sail in to the Boston harbor. Last he heard the sea wolf was on commission with the Spanish Navy, somewhere down in South America. Yet now here he was. Haytham didn’t bother to think how Edward had found him, the man was an Assassin; they had their ways of knowing.

Edward always had his ways of getting what he wanted that would have been breathtaking had it not been a slight nuisance. So when he’d shown up at Haytham’s door and walked right in Haytham didn’t even think to stop him.

“Doing all right for yourself, my boy,” Edward clapped him on the shoulder fondly.

“No need to act surprised, father,” Haytham sighed.

“And you have no need to act like such a grump,” he gave Haytham’s shoulder a fond squeeze.

“Is there something you need? I’m father busy as of late. I haven’t the time to entertain you,” Haytham just pushed forward, it wasn’t like he was lying or anything.

“What? I can’t visit my only son?” Edward demanded.

Haytham sighed and rubbed his eyes, “Of course, father, but I’m busy.”

“With what? I had of mind we could get a drink, catch up on old times. Whatever it is can probably wait, Haytham,” Edward said. Haytham was about to answer, really he was, except Edward became distracted (not an easy thing to do Haytham knew, Edward was always painfully focused) by a noise at the doorway between the foyer and the sitting room.

“ _Father, who is that?_ ” Connor asked, staring at Edward. Connor didn’t know many people beyond Haytham’s friends, it didn’t help he distrusted new people. how long had it taken for the boy to warm up to him? At least he could speak some English now, and Haytham had learned someKanien’kéha in turn thanks to Connor and William. It was enough to communicate between them.

“ _Ah, no one Connor,_ ” Haytham said, “Edward, as I said, I’m busy and- hey!” Edward wasn’t listening. Oh what else was new?

Edward went right over to the boy and crouched down, “You speak any English?” Edward asked.

“Yes,” Connor said, and doing his best to look as intimidating as a six year old could.

“What’s your name?”

Connor looked at Haytham and Haytham gave him a little wave, wouldn’t do him any good to hide it, Connor would answer however he wanted. “Connor,” he said.

Edward chuckled, “Truly, Connor? How did a boy as young as you get a name like that?”

“Edward,” Haytham growled.

“What?” his father looked over his shoulder at him, “Who’s the boy, Haytham?”

“My son,” Haytham said, “He’s a Mohawk,” he wasn’t ashamed of Connor, or that he’d loved Ziio, rest her soul.

Edward looked at Connor again, “Your boy?” he was only sort of asking Haytham. “Well then that means…” he stood up and in a moment Haytham was being embraced. Oh with the hugging. Haytham could do less with his father’s bear hugs. “I’m a grandfather again!” and Haytham awkwardly patted Edward’s back. Lovely. “This calls for a celebration,” Edward said once he let go of Haytham.

“Father I-

“No, no butts. I’m your father and I say celebration. Now, put on your coat m’boy, I know a wonderful pub.”

“What about Connor?” Haytham asked, since he couldn’t just leave the child here  _alone_.

“He’ll come of course!” Edward said, “right boy?” he asked the six year old. Connor just stared at him.

“Father,  _please_ ,” Haytham sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Don’t be such a spoil sport Haytham, c’mon now, must I dress you like I did when you were a tike?”

Haytham sighed. Edward always did get what he wanted. He might as well not fight this. “Very well, father,” he stepped around Edward to Connor, “Come Connor, lets get your shoes on.” Perhaps Connor was a better son than him, because he didn’t complain as he followed after Haytham to find them.


	24. Gold and Brown

 

Winter was coming, Altair knew that. He liked winter. At least the winter before it started to snow, he could do with less snow. In small amounts it was okay, but it never snowed in small amounts in Masyaf.

This wasn't Masyaf though, this wasn't even Jerusalem where he was headed, this was the Kingdom between and Altair was bored. The ride from Masyaf and and Jerusalem was long and lonely. Altair tried not to let it get to him. Night was coming now though, he needed to stop for the night. A boring night after a boring day before  _another_  boring day. How wonderful his life was.

At least he wasn't dead.

That was barely a consolation prize.

He stopped his horse before it got too dark and set up a little camp a ways off the road. He watered his horse, tied it to a bush and then set about looking for some kindling and fire wood. Once he had a pile of both he took a knife and himself out into the shrub to find something to eat. Sure he had rations, but he was getting tired of the same old food every day. He wanted to get himself some fresh meat, anything really.

It didn't take him long to find something and he sank low behind a bush, the tip of a throwing knife caught between two fingers. There was a hare just in front of him, nibbling at some dried grass. He steadied his breath, knowing he'd get one shot at it, then from where he was he hurled the knife. He grinned in satisfaction when the rabbit cried out and he moved forward to end it's life.

A streak of brown and gold raced from a bush before Altair could get to his rabbit one of the wild cats sprang upon it, clamped its jaws around the rabbit's throat and stopped it's struggles. It then tried to leave with Altair's catch!

"Hey!" he cried and made himself look big, to scare the cat off. The cat let go of the rabbit and hissed at him, arching its back and looking fully pissed. "Get away," he pulled out his short sword and used it to try and move the cat off his kill. It wasn't going down without a fight though. Well tough shit it was Altair's meal not this cat's. He used his foot to push it away, though  _not_  kicking it, and grabbed the hare by the ears. The cat hissed at him, furious. "Oh shut up, here, you can have some," and he broke one of the hare's legs and used his sword to cut it off. He left the leg on the ground and returned back to camp.

Altair skinned and gutted the hare and started his fire. He put the skinned rabbit over the flame and wrapped the insides in the skin to dump before he went to sleep. As he waited for the hare to cook he heard a noise. Altair ejected his hidden blade and waited, looking away from the fire to get his proper dark vision. He heard a low growl from the bushes. He tensed. Please don't let it be a lion or a cheetah, he thought. Then, to his surprise, the cat from earlier slid out from the bushes. He growled at Altair and clearly wanted the rabbit skin full of guts and blood which was a few feet away from the fire, but was too scared to come near.

Altair picked up the rabbit skin and opened it. He tossed a piece of meat to the cat, it grabbed it and darted back into the bushes. Altair smiled to himself and went back to waiting for his rabbit. The cat came back a dozen times before his rabbit was done and each time Altair threw it a portion of what was in the rabbit skin. He left the skin an the rest of the portions outside of his camp when he was getting ready for bed.

The next morning the cat was there, near, sitting, watching him sleep, clearly waiting. "What?" he asked the cat. They had amazing golden eyes and Altair felt their heat even as the sun rose. "I have nothing for you," he told the cat, which was a golden thing with brown stripes. it was probably a feral house cat. Or maybe the offspring of a wild and house cat. It didn't seem afraid of him at least. If anything it was like it demanded he pay attention to them. Altair ignored the cat and did his morning exercises and had his morning tea, the cat moved around him, too far to touch, but near all the same. "Whaaaat?" he asked it when he stood between him and his horse. "You want more food? Want me to feed you, you dumb thing?" he asked it. 

They blinked their golden eyes at him. Yes, they said. Feed me.

Altair groaned, "You're unreasonable," he sighed, giving it a look. The cat's tail just curled in amusement. Altair knew he should just step over the cat and leave but... Aaban. He looked down at the golden-eyed cat with a sigh. "Okay," he said, and pulled out his knife to find it something else to eat.

Altair spent three days in that spot, he didn't even care if he was late. By the end of the first day the cat let Altair touch them. They didn't purr for him but he didn't mind that. By the end of the second day they ate food right out of his hand without complaint. Altair liked the cat. On the third day Altair woke up and the cat wasn't there. That confused him the most honestly. He waited, did his exercises, and had his morning tea. The cat didn't come. Altair knew he should just leave, but he couldn't.

He left his camp and looked for signs of the cat. Altair was an expert tracker and it didn't take him long to find the trail. He followed it to some rocks and a small cave, too small for him, but he could look inside. He crouched down and peered inside. He swallowed and pulled back. He'd found out what had happened to the cat. Something bigger and hungrier had found it, hunted it, tracked it back here and gotten into it's nest. Altair felt sick to his stomach. Human death he could deal with. His job human death. But a cat? All he could see was Al Mualim holding Aaban around the throat and digging a knife into his stomach, spilling his guts all over the floor. Thinking about it too much made Altair honestly feel light headed.

The golden striped cat was dead, the body gone, all that was left of it was blood and some guts. There was nothing Altair could do. He needed to move on and get to Jerusalem.

Altair stood and dusted himself off. Time to go. He'd taken perhaps three steps when he heard a mew, a soft mew. He stopped, turned and listened. More newing. Altair took the three steps back to the little cave. The mewing was louder now. He crouched down and even got on his hands and knees to look inside the cave. He saw the gore yes and he ignored it. Then, he saw movement. He licked his lips and moved his head to allow more of the early sunlight to enter the cave. There, amid the remains of its mother, was a kitten. It looked only a few weeks old and was terribly scrawly. A jolt went through Altair. There was too much blood here for just one cat. There had been a litter in this little cave. This kitten had somehow avoided the blood bath, maybe by being too small and skinny to be noticed.

Without thinking Altair reached into the cave and blindly groped around in it. Then his hand closed around the kitten gently and he pulled it out of the cave. The kitten was covered in blood and mewing loudly as Altair held it, clearly complaining. Altair rocked back onto his thighs. "Oh dear," he said and looked at the kitten in his hand, barely bigger than his palm. What was he going to do now?


	25. High on This

Sometimes bad thing happened to good people. It was the way the world worked. Sometimes the good guy lost and the villain won and the world didn't give a  _shit_

about the fact that you were a good person. It didn't care if you didn't have a social life to take care of your baby brother or if you made good grades or were on the varsity baseball team or if you spent every waking moment trying to be the best person you could possibly be. The world didn't give a shit, because life was pain and suffering.

But sometimes.

Sometimes good things happened to good people too.

Altair was still riding the adrenaline high from court. He could still remember Harvey saying, 'just tell the truth, don't sugar coat, and don't bull shit. If it's bad, say it's bad. You won't be helping yourself by making excuses for your parents.' So Altair had done just that and had laid it out plainly for the judge about what home life was like for Desmond and himself. It had only taken two hours.

Two hours.

Altair had thought it'd take more time.

Two hours had all it had taken to make sure Desmond would never be taken away from him.

They were celebrating with a cookout at their spot on Seal Beach. Literally everyone any of them knew and knew about Altair's custody battle with his adopted parents had been invited. It was about half a million people and Altair had never been congratulated more in his entire life than that afternoon on the beach. Altair just sort of felt numb about the entire thing. A good numb though. He felt like he was floating.

Desmond was playing in the surf with his little gaggle of friends, splashing, laughing. He'd get to see this all the time now. His brother happy, with friends, and not have to worry about uprooting his brother to some other town in some other country and try to explain to him as he got older why mommy and daddy were never home and say the same lies to Desmond he told himself. That William and Kaley loved them, that they would be home soon, that they were fine alone. Maybe William and Kaley did love them, Kaley's tears at court had seemed pretty real, but not the way a mother and father  _should_  love them, not the way he and Desmond  _deserved_  to be loved.

Altair was sitting a bit off to the side in the sand, surrounded and mostly hidden by surf boards. Being the center of attention was exhausting and Altair wasn't cut out for it. So once he felt like his hand was going to fall off from being shaken so much he'd retreated. It wasn't quiet here, as there was a boom box of some kind blasting music to be heard over the cacophony of loud voices. It was out of the way though and that was good enough and Altair didn't have to be at the center of this madness.

He smiled as from the shallows one of the kids screamed as they were attacked by the rest of them and then they were all barreling out of the ocean, screaming yelling and shoving. He heard Ms. Hastings yell at them to calm down and then they were making a sand castle.

"Hey," and the next moment Malik was sitting beside him.

"Hey," Altair said.

"How you feel?"

"High," Altair felt himself smile a bit. Malik laughed.

"So, good then?"

"Yeah," Altair was still watching his brother. A tight ball that had taken up residence in his chest for the past few weeks since Altair declared his Independence and his right of guardianship over Desmond had dissipated with the last word of the judge. It felt like he could breathe properly again.

"I'm glad," Malik leaned over and put his head on Altair's shoulder and took Altair's hand. "I'm glad you're staying," he added, squeezing Altair's hand.

"Me too," Altair leaned back against Malik in turn.

"What next?" Malik asked.

"Moving," Altair said, "and confirm my enrollment at the Art Institute," Altair felt himself smiling.

"I love when you do that," Malik said.

"Do what?" Altair asked looking at him confusedly.

"Smile," Malik pressed his lips to Altair's lips, "Do it more often."

Altair flushed a bit, "Okay," he said in a little voice.

Malik beamed at him and kissed him again. "Good," he said, cupping the side of Altair's face. Altair had to disagree. It wasn't good. It was great and it would only get better.


	26. A Stop and Start

 

[[x](http://mightier.tumblr.com/post/36139756817)]

To be honest Desmond had been expecting a choir of angels, a white light, and his entire life passing before his eyes. Death, however, was not nearly as grand. Most said death was painless. Painless his fucking  _ass_. Getting a couple hundred amps of electricity blasting through his nervous system and turning it into a piece of crispy, black, toast.

Desmond’s death had not been grand. It had been an abrupt end. He remembered trying to keep his hand still through the pain, and then… darkness, pure and absolute and he couldn’t remember anything. A white noise and static was the only thing he was aware of next and the fact that he was  _aware_ was perhaps the most startling. He was dead. The dead weren’t aware of anything because they were  _dead_. Wasn’t that the whole point of being dead?

Ghosts moved around him, countless thousands all milling and bumping against one another. Desmond didn’t feel threatened though. He knew they wouldn’t hurt him. He didn’t know what to do about it either and he wasn’t even sure where he was or in what orientation, it didn’t even feel like he had a body. So he was just there, for a moment it seemed, for a thousand years it was, for the entire life of a star it appeared, and for but a single beat of his heart it happened. One of the ghosts seemed to push forward, becoming more solid and take shape, then another, seeming to press against a film between themselves, and him. Then the first one formed and he stared at them.

Looking at them made his chest burn with duty. He could taste the coppery taste of blood on his tongue and feel the warm caress of the Syrian sun on his skin. Loyalty weighed heavy on his back, seeming to strengthen it and give him a proper shape, an actual form and not just some bobbing set of senses amid so many ghosts. By the time they’d formed a third ghost was pressing urgently forward and the second was nearly solid. They both knelt next to him.

The second filled him with a rage that made it hard to see. His blood boiled and revenge was a poison to his very breath. The smell of garbage filled canals filled his nose but renaissance throbbed through his body, filling him. Change would not stop and he was just a leaf on the river. They knew that, he knew that.

The third nearly fell beside him and for a moment he felt like he was flying. He heard the sound of drums and the bitter regret of loss and patricide. Freedom was a dead weight in his gut but he could feel it all the way in the tips of his fingers, giving him strength for what was ahead.

“Hello, Desmond,” the second, Ezio, said. Desmond… right, he was Desmond. How had he forgotten that? Ezio hugged him.

“Hello,” he said, slightly awkward and confused. “What is this?”

“You’re dead,” Altair said without passion. “Again.”

“Again? What’s all this? I’m dead but I thought everyone died alone,” he frowned. He didn’t believe in heaven or hell. He thought it was bullshit. Everyone died alone and no matter how close you were to someone in death you were always alone. There were no comforts here.

“You are,” Connor said.

“You’re here.”

They looked between each other, “We’re you,” Ezio said.

“I don’t… understand,” Desmond confessed.

“Past lives,” Altair said, “all of them,” he waved at the ghosts floating in the blurry aether.

“All of us,” Connor motioned to themselves.

“I know it’s confusing,” Ezio said and pushed himself to his feet, “but you can’t stay here.”

“Why not?” Desmond asked.

“Because your time is done, and this spot is for the next one,” Altair said as he and Connor rose. Altair offered his hand to Desmond.

“Okay,” it was better to just go along with it. He reached out and grabbed Altair’s forearm. The Syrian pulled him to his feet. “What now?” he asked.

They looked between themselves again and all wore the same smile, “The last great adventure of course,” Connor said as Ezio put a hand on Desmond’s shoulder. Ezio propelled him forward and he passed through the film between where he had been and the ghosts. Desmond looked over his shoulder as they left. Resting in his place was an infant.

 


	27. The Storm in the Heart of the Sun

[[x](http://kejablank.deviantart.com/art/How-to-seduce-an-Assassin-327965570)]

Some men were like fire, they burned hot and blackened everything they touched. Some men were like ice, they were cold and nothing stood against them. Some men were like the sea, always changing and you would never see the same face twice. Some men were like the sky, vast and beautiful but you could never hold them in one place. Some men were like the sun, magnificent and strong, the world on their shoulders. Some men were like the moon, mysterious and allusive and slipped through your fingers like water.

Adha had seen many men, known several, charmed others, spoken with as equals. But she'd never met a man like this one. One who was hot and cold and changed like the moon over the sea and radiant like the sun in the sky. She wouldn't deny she was entranced with him, though she knew she was not the only one. He was the moth to hr flame and even though he knew to stay away he was totally powerless. Adha was not any better off. She had never known a man like Altair and every time they met she felt herself drawn to him more and more even though he knew he was not a good man. He was not a bad man, but a good one? She would never accuse Altair of such a disservice.

Though sometimes Altair could make a show of a good man. Like now. Having rescued her from Templars, for not the first time she was reluctant to remind herself, he'd found them a place to hide outside of Jerusalem in a way house owned by the Assassins for their men to rest on their missions. It was small but well maintained apparently thanks for the city's Dai. Once sure she was uninjured, and not just saying it to placate him, they'd broken words, ones she knew he needed to know. Ones of Harash and his betrayal. She'd never seen Altair so angry. Though for a man so devoted to a cause as Altair she supposed to made sense for him to be angry to know of such a deep betrayal. He'd left after that, to ensure they weren't followed and deal with anyone who  _had_  followed them. She felt sorry for any soul who had.

The door opened, Altair framed in old light from outside and entering the dimmer building. "No one followed," he said, and she made herself believe him.

"That is good," Adha said, "What now?"

He came and sat next to her, his hood hid his face from her and she wanted to push it back and run her thumb across the single mark on his face. "Harash must die," he said, "just as all enemies of the Order must."

"And you shall do it?" she asked him.

"I will," he said.

"When do you leave?"

"Tomorrow, at first light."

"And if you don't?"

"Then I will have failed my duties."

"From my perspective I'd say you've done them well," she laid a hand comfortingly on his arm. "I would still be in the clutches of the invaders if not for you," she smiled at him softly.

He swallowed, "I only do what is asked of me," he said.

"Oh course," she said, "and you do it well."

Altair got to his feet abruptly, "Are you hungry?" he asked her.

"Yes," she leaned back on her hands and at this angle saw his eyes sweep her lounged figure. If he was leaving she would have to as well. She could not stay here with the enemy so close. Adha knew she was a dangerous woman, so men say, because she was not afraid and because she was smart and independent and when there was something she wanted, she got it. There were few exceptions. She wanted to feel the burn of fire and ice and hold the sea to her chest and cup the sky in her hands, she wanted to look the sun in the face and learn all the mysteries of the moon. "Very hungry," she said and licked her lips. She knew he was staring, even if she couldn't see his eyes.

"I'll be back," and then he was gone. Adha groaned in a very unladylike fashion and slumped down onto the rug and pillow covered floor in a heap. What a wicked man, she thought.

Oh what a tragic scene she made. The poor damsel in distress pining after her knight in shining armor. Or something. Could the damsel pine after the black knight though? Adha thought it was more the fact that she was no proper damsel. No proper damsel would be entertaining the thoughts she currently was involving Altair and his hands in certain places on her. No proper damsel carried a knife around either. They let their knight protect them. Adha had learned long ago that no one but herself would be able to protect her though and to always carry a knife.

She concluded she was no damsel, though she was distressed. Distressed she wanted a man made of smoke and shadow and who's hands were covered in blood and could create hell on earth for any who decided to temp him. Adha smiled to herself. Such a man worthy of her at the least, as so few men were. All wanted to possess her but few could get close enough to touch. Such a man would go to hell and back if required to do what needed to be done and she entertained the thought of him doing so for her. It was but an idle fantasy though until Altair returned, probably with food, though she was hungry for more than food.

When he returned Adha was tracing some of the shapes on the rug in the lamp light. "Here," he said and set down a covered plate in front of her, much to her surprise. She thought it would be much rougher food.

"Where did you get this?" she asked him, lifting the cover. The food, pilaf and mutton and vegetables, was still steaming and smelled delicious.

"There is a village up the hill," he said, sitting down near her, but not in reaching distance.

"You went to the village and got me food?" she asked.

"Is there a problem with that?" he asked, slightly defensive.

She smiled, "No, thank you," she said and propped herself up a bit more. "None for yourself?" she asked as she picked up the spoon.

"I am not hungry," he said.

"You could have some of mine," she suggested.

"No, I am fine," he declined. She shrugged and ate. They did not speak and she felt him watching her. It was absolutely maddening since she was far more engaged in how his eyes, under the cover of his hood, traveled along her body than the food she was eating. It was not an uncomfortable silence at least, though she'd never known Altair to speak without purpose anyway. If he had something to say he would say it. What a terrible man.

"You're sure you don't want any, Altair?" she asked him and enjoyed what she could see of his face, restrained and holding himself back. He opened his mouth a bit before closing it. "Altair?" she asked when he did not answer.

"Yes, I would," he said and scooted closer to her as she went from mostly lying down to kneeling on the rug and offered Altair some of the pilaf. He hesitated but let her feed him. That was the better choice.

"Tell me, Altair," she enjoyed saying his name for how it made him pay attention, "what will you do tomorrow?"

"I plan to head to Alep and take the life of Harash," he said.

"And what of me?"

Atair frowned, "I would return for you," he said.

"You would?"

"Yes," and she was surprised when he suddenly grabbed her fingers. Altair had never laid a hand on her before except out of necessity. "I would see you safe," he said.

She smiled a slightly sad smile, "There is no safe place for me," she said.

"Masyaf-

She laughed a cold laugh, "I will not allow that old man to lock me up in some tower far from the world for his own desires," she said. "And they would come for me there. The Templars are incessant  _dogs_  who would always search for me."

"I would not allow you to come to harm," Altair said, still holding her hand, his grip surprisingly light. "From my Master, or any other."

"Really?" she asked.

"You have my word," he said and this close she could see his eyes. They were intense and serious. He meant every word he spoke.

She smiled faintly, "Thank you, Altair," she said and kissed his cheek. Please don't let him be stupid was really all she could think. She knew he could be. Sometimes.

This time was not one of those times. He blinked at her before cupping her face in both hands and kissing her. She kissed him back and made a point to knock that stupid hood off to know the feeling of his hair between her fingers. She heard the clatter of the plate as they shifted, Altair pushing her back, and if the food went everywhere she couldn't be bothered to concern herself with it. Altair kissed like a man dying of thirst, and Adha wanted nothing more than to lose herself in the desert that was his body and bring the much needed rain. He was nearly overwhelming, but she'd expected that. There were no other men like Altair, she would be a fool to think he would behave like one.

He kissed her lips and her face, along her jaw and down her neck. Deft fingers pushed off ornaments and hoods and the sound of her jewelry being put to the side was echoed by the jingle of Altair's weapons harness. Too much sharpness and steel in her lover and she wanted to find all the soft parts he didn't know he had and sink into them, wrap them around her. Adha knew clothes were removed but between dressed and bare she couldn't remember how it had happened and was just a blur of the feel of his hands and mouth on her skin. His mouth was hot like the sun, warming her from the inside out, his hands cool like ice, turning her flesh into one recently plucked. His body was the sea, unable to remain still and content for long, and his breath was the sky, full and left her in awe. He was the sun and the moon and she wanted to learn all his mysteries and feel the trembling strength beneath his arms.

When it was over they lay side by side, catching their breath in the little room. Sweat clung to Adha's brow and collected in the low parts of skin of her neck and stomach. "Altair," she said once she could think beyond her need to breathe. He 'hmmed' in response, a deep, satisfied sound that left tingles along her arms. "That was not my first time," she admitted.

"I would not hold you to any standards but my own," he said lowly and looked at her. She liked him better without his hood. It meant she cold see his eyes, know his thoughts. Such a shame to hide such expressive eyes behind a cowl. "It was not mine either."

She laughed, "Well that was obvious," she said and rolled onto her side, facing him. "You're too good to be a virgin," she smiled seductively at him and he rewarded her with a deep kiss that made it hard to breathe. He stroked her chin with his thumb, watching her with intense eyes. She kissed the pad on his thumb and leaned down to kiss his chest, right on one of his scars. "You should not go to Alep," she said, kissing higher up on his chest.

"I must," Altair said, trailing his fingers through her hair.

She looked up at him from under her lashes, "You will go to Alep and kill Harash, and then what?" she asked, moving to press against him. He rolled to face her, one hand sliding familiarly over her hip.

"I'll return for you," he said.

"And what is to become of me? Do you wish to lock me away in one of Masyaf's towers?" she asked, extending her hand enough to trace the scar on Altair's lips.

He frowned, "I would not take you to Masyaf if you did not want to go," he said.

"Even if your Master desired it?"

He leaned close and kissed her, "I will do as you command," he whispered against her mouth and a shiver of delight slid down her spine. There was something terrifying and exhilarating about holding fire in your hands. "Whatever you say."

"I will not be free here," Adha said lowly, toying with the skin of his face with the tips of her fingers, "the Templars will always search for me."

"And they will meet my blade," he growled, pulling her flush to him. She felt him stirring again and felt giddy at the thought.

"I was going to leave Syria," she said, tracing his jugular down to the hollow of his throat, "and go to India, or China, somewhere far to the east where the Templars could not find me." She couldn't help herself and kissed him again, tasting the sky on his tongue. "Come with me," she stroked his cheek.

"I will," Altair didn't even seem to need to think about it. "But first, Harash must die," Altair said. She frowned at him, "Then, I am yours to do with as you will."

"You're mine to do with as I will now," she smirked at him. Altair didn't tell her otherwise. "You will leave tomorrow?"

"Yes."

"Return to me quickly," she said.

"I will," and he kissed her chin. "I fear I will grow restless while away."

"You grow restless now," she said, hand on the strong line of his hip.

He grinned a devious grin, "I do," he agreed and pushed her onto her back, kissing her. Her gasp of pleasure was the sound of a woman who loved a mortal god.


	28. Wicked Game

[[x](http://browse.deviantart.com/art/Finding-Adha-141458322)]

There were two rooms in the tiny building that smelled like animals, garbage, and shit. Altair was watching it from the other side of the street from the third floor of another building. He’d been there all day, watching the door. He had good information, though moreimportantly  _recent_  information. What he sought was there and it infuriated him that she’d be left there amid this stinking cesspool.

 

Altair could still hear Malik in his head, yelling a him when he announced he was going to investigate Templars who were leaving Acre. He was the Grandmaster he’d cried and couldn’t just leave his Order as he saw fit, he had duties to do. Altair had just said he was going and Malik had been an angry cat about until he’d left, not yelling, but being pissed all the same. Altair knew Malik could and would run the Order better without him to slow him down. Malik didn’t need Altair. He’d only sent a bird from the bureau when he’d decided to go to Cyprus, no doubt Malik would have been  _furious_  when he got that. 

Altair could not concern himself in what his second in command would find annoying though. He was waiting for a man who would prove his information right to arrive. He’d wait all day and all nigh if he had to. He knew if the Chalice was there they would come. And if they didn’t? If they didn’t Altair would kill the mole that had given them the wrong information. Normally he’d go in without waiting but this was too sensitive. He couldn’t fail here. He could get her killed. The thought was horrifying.

Since the death of Bouchart the Templars had been quiet, to an extent and Altair had done his best to wash his hands of Cyprus’ rebellion. It didn’t matter to him. He’d come here with on purpose, and it wasn’t to help them. He’d gotten tangled in the mess against his will and didn’t have much to show for it besides a few dead Templars. A few dead Templars wasn’t a bad thing, but they distracted him from his purpose. At current the Templars were trying to regroup after Altair killed their important leaders (again) and for now a man named Joseph Gauge, an Englishman, was leading the Templars. He wouldn’t last long, Altair would see to that. Now he was waiting for Gauge to make an appearance.

It was nearing dark, and Altair had not moved, had not eaten and had only moved to turn away to piss off the side of the building all day. But then the man he wanted arrived. Altair could spot a Templar from fifty paces even without his second sight and he’d been told what Gauge looked like so it was even better. The man went up to the door, unlocked it, and went in. Altair dropped down to the ground once the door had closed.

He had not locked the door after him so when he tried it it opened. He opened it a fraction, enough to see in. The other door, that led to the second room, was open a bit as well, and there were two men guarding it. Two men, that was it. Clearly it was more to restrain Adha then it was to stop him.

Their mistake.

He checked as best he could for others, though he couldn’t see around his own door. He doubted they’d kill her. But there were other things they could do to her. The thought made his blood boil. Altair stepped back, draw his short sword, as the normal one was too unwieldy in the small space, and kicked the door in, leaping into the room after it. He caught the men unaware and there were no other men in the room and Altair made short work of them. Then once it was silent he could hear whimpers from the other room.

Altair pushed the other door open. The other room was a cell with a pallet, a pot, and the remains of some food. His eyes swept it and then to the corner where Gauge held Adha, holding her arms, a knife at her throat. When she saw him her eyes blazed with hope. “Drop her,” he growled, favoring his sword.

“Go to hell Assassin,” Gauge spat. “You wouldn’t let an innocent die would you?”

“An innocent? Yes. The Chalice? Never,” and Altair advanced a few steps.

“Hold it there Assassin, make another move and she dies,” he said and Adha gasped as he pressed the knife firmer against her neck, drawing a bit of blood. Altair did not move. “Too important to lose,” Gauge smiled. “Put your sword down,” he ordered, “both of them, and get away from them.” Altair eyed him and then looked at Adha. While afraid she was still strong. He drew his sword and held them both in his hands for a moment. Then he set them down on the ground. “That’s it,” Gauge said. “Now get away from them.”

Altair was still  holding the hilt of his short sword and he carelessly tossed it away from him, towards them. He did the same with the sword. The short sword traveled further. “I don’t need my swords to kill you,” he said passionlessly, to distract Gauge as he saw Adha eyeing the hilt of his short sword.

“No, you don’t, but it makes the task a bit more difficult doesn’t it?” Gauge smirked, thinking he’d outsmarted him. He’d eased up a bit on the knife at Adha’s throat.

“Not really.”

“What you’ll beat through my armor with your fists?” he asked with a laugh.

“No,” Altair said and in the next moment was in motion. Adha was as well and grabbed Altair’s short sword and shoved in back, stabbing Gauge. Altair’s hand caught and nearly broke Gauge’s wrist holding the knife near Adha’s throat and in the same motion shoved his blade through the man’s neck. “I’ll just do that,” he said darkly and pulled the blade out. He turned to Adha, she was pale and a bit dirty, her clothes soiled from grime, but otherwise appeared unhurt. “Adha,” he said and she tore her eyes away from the dead man behind her, “let go of the sword,” and he gently pried her fingers off his sword. He put it back in the scabbard on his back and quickly did the same for the sword on his hip.

“Altair… you found me” she said.

“I will always find you,” he said, cupping the side of her face gently with his right hand. “Lets get you out of here,” and he helped her to her feet. A protective part of him just wanted to carry her but he knew her pride would never allow it.

“Altair,” she said.

“Hmm?” He was surprised when she kissed him, but not displeased, and kissed her back, holding onto her and refused to let go. He put his forehead to hers when they parted, “Ready to go now?” he asked, only teasing a bit.

“Like you weren’t expecting a kiss after being my knight in shining armor,” Adha said with a faint smile. He kissed her again briefly on the lips before drawing her away.

“I might have entertained the idea,” he admitted as he pulled her from the death and carnage of the little building.

“Where are you taking me now Altair?” she asked.

“Home,” he said.

“Where is that?”

“Does it matter?” he asked her, holding her hand as they walked back to the hideout where Altair would see her cleaned and clothed.

“No, I suppose not. So long as you’re there,” and she squeezed his hand.


	29. Birthday Boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday Desmond QuQ

[[x](http://doomcheese.tumblr.com/tagged/Arts/page/5)]

It hadn't been till Desmond had even gotten to work that he even remembered what day it was. "Doing anything fun today Jonny?" Fred had asked as he opened his bar till.

"Huh?" reasonable question, it was just Tuesday, his work day. "Why would I be doing anything fun?"

"It's the thirteenth," Fred said. Desmond just continued to stare at him in confusion, why was his manager bringing this up? Had he done something? Had someone complained about something? "Jonny, it's March thirteenth."

"Oh," Desmond said and only then did he get it. March thirteenth, his birthday. He turned away from Fred, "No, I'm not doing anything," he said, finishing with the touch screen register. The way he said it made Fred not ask more questions, like why not, or if he wanted to go out and do something. Desmond didn't even think about it as he started his double shift and it wasn't even a thought during it until Carol, the night manager, showed up. Apparently it was her daughter's birthday too and she'd made cupcakes. Too many cupcakes clearly since she brought some in for the staff.

"Jon, you want one?" Carol asked him during his break. He stared at her a second, she had a tupperware in her hands with three cupcakes left.

"Yeah," he took it because he was always interested in free food, "Thanks," he said with a smile. She smiled back and left to try and get someone else to take the last two. Desmond put it aside, his break was over, he needed to get back to work. He put it under his bike helmet so no one steal it before going back out to the bar. The cupcake and the date left his mind while he worked.

He only remembered what the day was when he picked up his helmet after shift, dressed back down in his normal clothes, and found the cupcake. He found a to-go container for it and put it carefully into his backpack before leaving work. The ride home was uneventful, the roads almost quiet, or at the least free of most cars beyond taxis, the normal side of the city asleep for the night. The clubs he passed were still banging though, and lights rose high up the side of tall sky scrapers as though it wasn't midnight.

Desmond's apartment was dark and empty when he came home, the bed and a folding tray table the only furniture in the one room apartment. He turned on the lights, locked his door, set his backpack down, peeled off his jacket, and checked all the locks on the windows. He checked the closet and checked under the bed and in the tiny pantry that could actually fit a person. Old paranoias were hard to kill. Once he was secure he changed into his night clothes, the shirt old and worn, and grabbed his backpack, taking the to-go container out. He took the moment to rummage through the suitcase he still hadn't unpacked from his move from Chicago last year, and found the box of cheap candles that had made it into the suitcase from Andrew's birthday thirteen months ago. He threw away the others but kept one candle.

He turned off the lights, put the cupcake and the candle on the tray table next to his bed and crawled into it. Blanket around his shoulders he assembled the cupcake and candle and found a matchbook he'd gotten from work. "Nine years tomorrow," Desmond said to himself as he lit the match. He sort of smiled to himself as it lit the candle, it wasn't a very happy smile. "Happy birthday me," he said and watched the candle burn, the flame flickering. When it had burned down half way Desmond finally blew it out. He wished something would happen.


	30. Stop Me

[[x](http://kotori-toi.deviantart.com/)]

Malik got a surprise when he went down to the desk. Altair hadn’t been around for breakfast, which had been strange, now he was even more surprised by what he saw. Altair was waiting in front of the desk dressed down in his old, white, uniform, like any one of their men. He wasn’t near the desk and had the sort of eerie stillness about him Malik was familiar with. The only thing that stood him out from another Assassin was the tabby slinking around his legs. When Malik thought on it Sawsan had not been at breakfast either, though none of her children had eaten from her dish.

“What are you doing?” Malik asked, coming beside Altair, Sawsan looked up at Malik in a pleased, smug, manner. Damn cat what was Altair up to now?

“I’m going to Jerusalem,” and the hair stood up on the back of Malik’s neck.

“Excuse me?” he asked.

“You heard me,” Altair said.

“More like, no you are not,” Malik said.

“I am,” Altair said.

Malik moved around him to the desk, a single piece of paper was it. He picked it up. It was an actual, proper, letter, written by the new king. Saladin’s son, to Altair. Or to Al Mualim at any rate. “You move at the whims of a mere king now Altair?” Malik asked him, unimpressed.

“I move to my own whims,” Altair said. “I’m going to Jerusalem.”

Malik frowned and motioned to him to come near. “No you aren’t,” Malik said.

“You may deny me all you wish Malik. But I am going to Jerusalem.”

“He says he has something precious to you, some cup-” Altair’s eyes flashed. “…What is it Altair?” he asked.

“It is not a  _cup_ ,” Altair growled, “It is the chalice. It is…” he cast quick glances around them, “Adha,” he said the name in a whisper. Malik blinked and stared.

“You’re not going,” Malik said again.

“I am. You cannot stop me.”

Malik grabbed Altair by the front of his robes and hauled him to the window where no one could overhear them. “You could put yourself in danger for a woman?” he hissed at Altair. “It has been a long time since we heard anything of her. The king is having a play at you to see if he can make you come to heel. You are  _not leaving_ ,” he said sternly, “and what am I to tell Maria? That you left to go try to find the woman you loved before her?”

“You can tell her whatever you want,” Altair said. “You can try to do whatever you want. I’m still leaving,” Altair said. Malik scowled at him but he knew Altair. Nothing he said or did would sway Altair’s hand.

“You go as Grandmaster-

“No,” Altair said and took a step away from Malik, a slight grin on his face, “I go as just another Assassin. I’ll return in a month, keep my seat clear  _habibi_ ,” and then he turned and walked away. Malik wanted to go after him, he really did. Instead he just sighed and burned the letter.


	31. A Little Help?

[[x](http://milkdoggie.tumblr.com/post/45390810434/still-on-a-modern-au-with-some-altairxconnor)]

Connor made a miserable sight, sopping wet, and more than a little cold even in late spring. The only saving grace was at least the river hadn’t been ice thaw. That and he’d ditched his pursuers. He didn’t know what was worse, Abstergo goons, or cops.

He pulled his phone out and grimaced at it. Why had he bothered? It was ruined. Shivering slightly he checked his bearings before realizing where he was. He was close to Altair’s house. Perfect honestly.

He made it to Altair’s in about twenty minutes, still cold and still wet, and rang the door bell. Altair answered the door, eyes going wide. “Connor? What are you doing here?”

“Fell in a river to get away,” Connor said, hugging himself. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah yeah,” and Altair ushered him inside, checked behind him to make sure Connor wasn’t followed before directing Connor to his room. It was warmer in Altair’s home since Altair liked it hot, but Connor still felt chilly and the dampness didn’t help. “Here,” Altair threw a towel at him, “I’ll find you something to wear.”

“Thanks,” Connor said, meaning every word.

“Wanna tell me what you were doing?” Altair asked as Connor partially dried his hair with the towel. Altair was looking through his closet for something for Connor.

“Things got hot,” Connor said grabbing the hem of his sodden shirt and pulling it up.

“So you took a dip in the river to cool off?” Altair asked in his patented dry sarcasm.

“Well I lost them and— I’m stuck,” he said, arms awkwardly above his head, caught in the clutches of his wet shirt.

“You’re what?”

“I’m stuck.” Altair didn’t say anything to that, “Are you going to help me?”

“Yeah,” and he heard Altair come over to him and stand in front of him. “How’d you manage this?”

“Just help me,” Connor huffed. Altair chuckled and tugged the shirt off Connor’s trapped arms. “Thanks,” Connor said.

“No sweat,” Altair grinned a grin that was a smirk. “You’re cold,” Altair noted, hand on Connor’s shoulder. Connor stared at the hand. He didn’t like people touching him.

“I was just in a river,” Connor reminded him.

“We’ll have to warm you up then,” Altair said, his hand sliding off Connor’s shoulder by going down his arm and he went back to get Connor the shirt he could wear. Connor stared at where Altair had been. He’d just… missed something.


	32. Okay

[[x](http://milkdoggie.tumblr.com/post/45390810434/still-on-a-modern-au-with-some-altairxconnor)]

Honestly this was more unexpected than being ambushed. Like if Connor didn’t do touching Altair  _really_  didn’t do touching. It was why they got along, both of them were totally content to not touch each other and respect each other’s space. Which was more than they could say for Ezio and Desmond who were all sorts of touchy feely and made Connor uncomfortable.

But this… What was this? Altair was hugging him. Once they’d dealt with the last goon he’d gone right over to Connor and hugged him. Connor was too surprised to do much about it, though he admitted he… kinda liked it. For a guy who didn’t hug Altair sure gave good ones. Maybe it never normally happening was why Connor liked it.

It only lasted for a few seconds, though had felt longer, then Altair pulled back, hands still high on Connor’s shoulders. “You okay?” Altair asked him.

“… Yes,” Connor heard himself say.

“Good, I was worried about you there,” Altair smiled a not-smirk smile and turned away. Connor wasn’t sure why he was blushing.


	33. In the Open

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha so milkdoggie showed me some supplementary things she drew for this image and that’s how this happened and got so damn long. I don’t think I’m allowed to share though sorry!

[[x](http://milkdoggie.tumblr.com/post/44921527650/modern-au-altairxconnor-ishipit)]

Five channels flashed past in about three seconds, Connor didn’t understand how Altair could actually tell what the TV was even showing when he went by them so quickly. Connor said nothing though, it was his house, he could channel surf however he wanted. Connor wasn’t much of a TV person anyway. Then Altair stopped on one seemingly without rhyme or reason and somehow had managed to end up on Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Connor didn’t know the show was even still in syndication. At any rate Altair put the controller down and they watched Buffy kill vampires, have high school drama Connor didn’t know existed, and tried to not be attracted to Angel.

 

Connor swallowed a bit when Buffy didn’t do the last one and they ended up kissing. He always was slightly uncomfortable watching people kiss. Well maybe not uncomfortable, but just awkward. He was twenty and hadn’t been kissed and felt weird watching other people make out it was a totally reasonable thing to think.

“Con,” Altair said, distracting him, “You okay?”

“Huh? Yeah, I’m fine,” Connor said, though Altair was giving him a funny look.

“You sure? You look all flustered.” If he wasn’t before Connor definitely was flustered now though. “You okay?” he asked again.

“Yeah,” and if that wasn’t the most unmanly squeak ever Connor didn’t know what was.

Altair looked back at the TV, this was the episode Angel went evil cause they had sex and Connor couldn’t even look back at the screen now. “You want me to change the channel?” Altair asked, now sounding sort of concerned.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Connor said to play it off and even he knew he was doing a bad job at it. He knew Altair knew he was doing a bad job at it too.

Altair changed the channel anyway, oh thank god, and found some show about cars. Perfect. They watched in silence for a few minutes before Altair changed the channel at commercials and in about five seconds he’d gone twenty channels and found Discovery. “Hey Con,” Altair said.

“Hmmm?” Connor asked, watching the documentary about oceans on the TV.

“Don’t think this is weird or anything, but I got a question.” Connor looked and Altair was looking back at him, “Are you asexual?”

“W-what?” Connor stammered. “Why would you ask that?”

Altair shrugged, “I was just wondering. Aveline thinks you are. That or oblivious.”

“What?” Connor asked again, cause what else was he supposed to say when one of his friends asked that? Maybe it was because it was Altair and Altair had that open relationship with his boyfriend and Connor still wasn’t sure how it worked but it meant Connor usually saw Altair with someone more often than Ezio which was startling at times.

“You seriously have no idea what I’m talking about?” Connor just stared at him like a deer in the headlights. “You still didn’t answer me.”

“No I’m not!” Connor’s voice cracked like he was twelve years old again.

“Seriously? Huh…” Altair said thoughtfully.

“Why would you even ask that?” he asked in probably the fastest English he’d ever managed without tripping over his words.

“Cause you’ve never had a girlfriend,” Altair said with the most unapologetically conversational tone ever.

“How do you know?” Connor demanded.

“Dude, I don’t actually wanna know how Aveline finds this stuff out. I just go with it and take it for fact. Is she wrong?”

Connor looked away, awkward and slightly embarrassed, though he knew Altair wasn’t making fun of him, he was honestly just curious. “No, I haven’t,” he said in a low voice.

“Nothing wrong with that-

“I’ve never done anything with anyone. So watching it makes me feel weird,” Connor blurted out.

Altair blinked, “Oh,” he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You wanna do something?”

“What?” Connor absolutely yelped and was man enough to admit it.

“Well you’ve never done anything with anyone so… wanna do something?” and Connor turned a furious red color. “I don’t mean that,” Altair added, “I mean like, you’ve never been kissed, you could practice on me for when you get a girlfriend.”

“That is abnormal,” Connor said.

“No it isn’t,” Altair shrugged.

“What and then do you sleep with them after?”

“I’ll have you know I have kissed both Desmond and Ezio and slept with neither of them, and both of them were before they got girlfriends,” Altair said matter-of-factly.

“So Desmond and Ezio practiced on you?” Connor asked.

“Considering I was the only one of those losers who had any experience, yeah,” Altair said like it was no big deal. Connor, admittedly, grew up very sheltered, he honestly didn’t know if that was normal or not. But Ezio and Desmond were both perfectly normal guys (even if Ezio had a lot of ex girlfriends). So it wasn’t that weird, right? And Connor also could admit that he wouldn’t mind kissing someone before he turned twenty-one

“Malik wouldn’t get mad?” Connor asked.

“Hardly,” Altair scoffed, “He likes watching me kiss other people,” he added with a sort of grin that made it obvious why Malik was always almost punching Altair in a mouth.

“Oh,” Connor flushed. Then, “… Yeah, I wouldn’t mind doing something,” he said awkwardly.

Altair grinned a different grin, it was nice and kinda sweet, “Just relax,” he said nicely and leaned over, pressing his mouth against Connor’s. Well this was weird, at least there wasn’t tongue. Connor didn’t even know if Altair was good, he just assumed so and crap Connor was probably awful. Altair didn’t stop though, so that was probably a good sign.

“You know,” Altair said, pulling away, “You’re gonna have to kiss me back at some point for practice to matter.”

“Oh… right,” Connor said sheepishly. “Am I bad?”

“I don’t know,” Altair said, “you’re just a block of wood,” and that made Connor flush. “Don’t be nervous, I can guarantee you won’t be as bad as Ezio.”

“How do you know that?” Connor asked, wondering if he really wanted to know this.

“Cause the first thing he did was jam his tongue down my throat like a moron.”

“Really? Wow that’s stupid.”

“Yeah I know so be at ease you are not the worst person I’ve ever kissed,” he promised. Connor nodded and Altair kissed him again. This time Connor did kiss him back and it was a bit weird about how to get his mouth to do anything other than be awkward. He just sort of mimicked Altair and that seemed to work out the best. When he started to get more comfortable with it, which wasn’t hard since kissing was… really nice, Altair gently cupped one side of his jaw. Altair’s thumb stroked his cheek and ran his tongue along Connor’s lips but didn’t try to do anything else with it.

Connor was surprised how easy it was to get distracted by kissing, or this would be making out by this point wouldn’t it? He was okay with that honestly since Altair was going slow and and Connor was honestly getting into it.

At least up until a point that startled him. Oh shit. His eyes snapped open and he grabbed Altair by both shoulders pushing him away feeling absolutely mortified. He said he hadn’t been interested in that! “What?” Altair asked, “What’s wrong?” sounding almost worried. Connor didn’t even have an answer, he was just hugely red faced and couldn’t even look at him. He was still holding Altair at arm’s length though and he needed to say something. “Oh,” it was more of a sound than a word, “I see you’re enjoying it,” Altair said with a smirk.

“S-shut it,” Connor stammered and pointedly changed the position of his legs so Altair couldn’t see because wow this was embarrassing.

Altair leaned over to him and spoke into his ear softly, “We can do more,” and Connor felt his ears and throat burn along with his face. He looked at Altair out of the corner of his eye and Altair had a smirk on his face. One of those self satisfied ones, but not a smarmy one. More like he was proud to have given Connor a bit of a hard on. “If you want,” he added, like it was an afterthought and not a concern to him. Of course not Altair would probably do whatever Connor as up for. Which…

“I think I would,” Connor said with a slightly shaky voice. Honestly Connor wasn’t even sure what he liked. He hadn’t even thought about it really. Like he found both sexes sort of appealing but it had never entered his head to think too hard about it. He didn’t even watch porn, he thought it was disgusting and inhumane, so that was no help. But hey if you were gonna let someone touch your dick it might as well be one of your best friends right?

Altair’s answer was to kiss his neck and pull Connor’s thigh down. Connor sighed a heavy sigh and felt Altair unbutton his pants and for a second he thought to stop him but didn’t. Why bother? Wasn’t he doing this for ‘practice’? Or something, he couldn’t remember with Altair’s mouth on his neck and hand down the front of Connor’s pants. All he knew was it felt really good and the hand not on his crotch was in his hair.

“Oh wow,” Connor literally jumped out of his skin at a new voice and his eyes snapped open and Malik was standing right there and Connor’s mouth fell open like a fish out of water. Malik had a bag over his shoulder, his brows up in interest but not anger.

“M-Malik,” Connor squeaked.

“I think this is a hat trick,” Malik said, talking to Altair. “Making out with all three of your best friends, someone might confuse you for a slut, Altair.”

“Only for certain people,” Altair smirked and Connor was very aware that he was still hard and Malik didn’t seem upset that his boyfriend was just getting another guy off.

Malik’s eyes flicked to Connor a second before looking back at Altair, “Well at least you’re entertained, I have homework,” Malik said.

“You don’t wanna watch?” Altair asked and Connor stared at Altair. These two were insane.

“No need to traumatize him further,” Malik said with a shrug. He walked over to Altair, “Don’t make a mess,” and he leaned down and gave Altair a pief but firm kiss before leaving them.

Connor was still staring at Altair, Altair was clearly watching Malik’s ass as he walked away. Then he looked back at Connor. “What?” Altair asked, “I told you he’s totally cool with it.” Connor’s mouth was still open, he couldn’t believe that had just happened. Like he knew Altair and Malik were in an open relationship. He didn’t know it was like that. It was a life changing experience. He finally had to focus again when Altair put his hand down his underwear and he sucked in breath. “Don’t worry about it,” Altair told him.

“I… okay,” Connor said helplessly. Altair smiled and kissed him.


	34. I'll Keep You Warm

[[x](http://mightier.tumblr.com/post/6671174951/bit-of-warmth-a-gift-for-kels-birthday)]

It was early fall, Italy should still have been warm. Or at least Desmond thought so at least. It was sort of warm, during the day anyway. At night it got cold, not enough to see your breath, but cold all the same. Wasn’t Rome supposed to be warm? Maybe Desmond was just predisposed to think Italy was always warm, like Florida, or Texas. Though, to be fair they were always warm.

He’d been surprised by the chill the first night, but had managed. It made waking up the next morning hard though. Then it had been a brief breakfast and back in the Animus. The next night he was ready for it though and had an extra blanket. It made waking easier and he woke before the others and wanted a real breakfast before the Animus, or as real a breakfast as he could manage. He pulled on his clothes and started to move around to warm himself up quickly in the last of the night’s chill.

Desmond got a surprise when he went into the kitchen which was a sorry excuse for a kitchen. Lucy was already at the table, though had nothing in front of her. She was already dressed and seemed tired. “Hey,” he said, making her look at him.

She smiled slightly, “Good morning,” she said.

“You’re up early,” he said, since it was early.

“Couldn’t sleep,” she said with a slight shrug.

“Too cold?” he asked her as he moved around to the counter. He grabbed the kettle Shaun heated his water for tea in, filled it, and plugged it into the wall.

“Yeah,” she said, he gave her a smile, she just looked tired though and didn’t offer him one back.

He sat across from her, “You okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” she said, “just… cold.”

“Well, lucky for you then I’m working on that problem,” he said, attempting to be cheerful as best he could.

“Oh?” she asked.

“Shaun isn’t the only guy who knows how to make tea,” he said.

She blinked at him and then shook her head with a slight smile, like he was too much. “I thought you only knew how to make alcoholic drinks,” she teased him.

“I can make any liquid concoction you could imagine,” Desmond said as the electric hot water heater started to groan loudly. He hadn’t filled it up, just enough for a mug and some tea.

“Really now?” she asked.

“Yeap,” and the water was boiling, he got up, “watch me be amazing,” he declared and got a mug out of the cupboard and some of Shaun’s tea. He packed the tea ball with the loose leaf (like Shaun would drink bagged tea) and let it seep. As he did he went to the fridge and opened it.

“You’re not going to ask how I take it?” Lucy asked.

“Nope,” he grinned at her, “I’m going to guess.” He turned back into the fridge and grabbed a lemon, since Shaun drank his tea with some sugar and a squeeze of lemon. He cut a strip of the rind off and then squeezed a bit of the lemon into the tea. He put in spoon and a half of sugar and stirred it before taking the tea ball out, the water now a deep amber color. Last he put the rind onto the mug, hanging off the rim. “And wala, a nearly perfect cup of tea,” he set it down in front of her.

“Nearly?” she asked, giving him a look.

“I’d rather have used honey or brown sugar, but, not an option,” he said and unzipped his hoodie. “Try it,” he said.

Lucy blew across the top of the mug. As she took a sip Desmond laid his hoodie across her shoulders. She looked up at him as she sipped. Her brows went up. “Oh,” she said, “this is good.”

“Told you,” Desmond smiled.

“What’s with the jacket?” she asked him, eyeing his hoodie on her shoulders.

“I warmed it up, so now you’re warm inside and out,” she said, sitting down next to her.

She smiled at him, looked down at the mug a moment, then back at him, “Thank you,” she said softly. Desmond smiled back.


	35. It'd be Cute

  
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[[x](http://milkdoggie.tumblr.com/post/46311040040/its-still-kinda-cold-here-i-mean-last-week-we-had)]

Connor didn’t know why his friends had decided to go down to the Commons, especially after it had just snowed the day and night before. Probably because it was an easy meeting point for the all of them for the most part, being not to far from where any of them lived at only a few T stops in any one direction. They were standing just outside Park Street station (unarguably the worst stop on the Green), in the lee of the building and out of the wind.

They were waiting for Desmond to show up though, he did have the longest commute though and had to come from across the river. Not like the others who all lived in Boston. Connor was cold. He’d grown up his entire life in New England but he still found the winters too cold, even though it was a mild winter. Connor was a cold light weight. “Is he going to get here  _or what_?” Ezio groaned, leaning against the building, Connor wasn’t since the stone work was cold too. “It should not take this long to get from Harvard.”

“Shaun’s probably bothering him,” Malik shrugged, he and Altair were leaning against the wall as well, pressed up together like trying to keep warm. Connor had a hard time maintaining just actual visual on Altair and looked down, face flushed. “He’ll come, he knows were going to go Uburger for lunch.”

“Guy is gay for a Uburger,” Altair smirked.

“Still why’s it taking so-” a snowball hit Ezio  _right_  in the face. The rest of them erupted into laughter. “Sonuvabitch!” Ezio yelled and looked at who could have thrown it.

“Love ya Ezio,” Desmond called from the direction of the Boylston stop.

“Desmond you shit!” Ezio yelled and was running at him. Desmond laughed and took off. They ran around for a minute or two to everyone’s laughter, before Ezio full body tackled Desmond into the snow.

“Mercy! Mercy!” Desmond laughed, batting at Ezio and wiping snow off his face.

“That’s right,” Ezio said proudly and got up off him. He offered Desmond and hand and they stood.

“Soooo,” Desmond said once he and Ezio were back with the others, “Uburger?”

“Ha, took you twenty seconds to ask,” Altair teased.

“Whaaat? I like Uburger,” Desmond whined.

“C’mon, Connor keep tweedle dee and tweedle dumb separated,” Altair ordered. Connor didn’t get that reference but he figured it was a good an opportunity as any to put Desmond in a headlock and drag him after Altair and Malik, Desmond protesting as they walked down the sidewalk towards the Uburger.

It took Desmond about a minute of struggling to wrestle himself out of the headlock and he shoved Connor as hard as he could. Connor ended up stumbling right into Altair and Malik. “Desmond!” Malik scolded him and while Altair and Connor got themselves back together Malik went to berate him and shove snow in his face.

“You’d think they’d grow out of this eventually,” Connor said.

“You’d think,” Altair agreed, then Malik yelled in triumph as he got snow down the back of Desmond’s coat.Desmond ran down to the crossing area swearing up a storm.

“Well, took care of that,” Malik said, dusting his gloves off of the snow.

“You’re the worst, Malik,” Ezio said.

“Yet you all keep coming back,” Malik said with a smirk, “Lets get to the restaurant  I’m freezing out here,” he shivered for emphasis.

“Coming’,” Ezio said and the others followed after Malik.

At one point Malik turned around while walking, his boots crunching in the snow as he walked backwards. “What?” Altair asked, since Malik was staring at him and Altair.

“You two, should hold hands,” Malik said in a very serious tone.

“What?” Connor squeaked. Shit he didn’t like the look Ezio was currently giving them.

“What?” Malik asked like it was a totally normal request. Connor was still getting over the whole making out with Altair thing from a week ago. “It’d be cute,” he said it very matter-of-factly too, like there was no way they wouldn’t hold hands and no way it wouldn’t be cute. Connor didn’t even know if he could  _do_ cute, let alone if Altair could. Could dudes like them do cute?

Well it turned out Connor didn’t have a say in the matter anyway since Altair reached out and took his hand. “Happy?” Altair asked Malik.

“Thrilled,” Malik said, grinning widely. Connor just blushed as he followed Malik. Altair didn’t wear gloves, even though it was cold out, and his hand felt small in Connor’s mittens. He squeezed Altair’s fingers, in his head to keep them warm, but he knew it was cause he liked it, even though he was blushing and awkward from it. At least Ezio didn’t say anything and when they met back up with Desmond once he was done cursing Malik out for shoving snow down his back all he did was give him and Altair a courtesy glance but didn’t comment.

Altair held his hand up until they sat down, taking off coats in the warm restaurant and sat across from Connor, next to Malik. At least that was over. Or at least that was what Connor thought until Altair started playing footsies with him. The two of them looked way too pleased with themselves and Connor just turned the color of ketchup.


	36. Little Spoon

[[x](http://milkdoggie.tumblr.com/post/47085413421/i-had-an-altcon-sketch-sitting-in-my-sketchbook)]

Altair wasn’t used to being the short member in a relationship. Malik was about half an inch shorter than him though Malik was convinced it was because Altair didn’t wear any type of shoe unless he could kick your ass in them. Altair also tended to just like people who happened to be shorter than him. Most of the time anyway. Wasn’t like he specifically went out of his way to not take home people taller then him, it just always turned out that way.

But, he had to admit, it was sort of nice. Connor was at least three inches taller than him and Altair was constantly staring at his chin… or his mouth. Whatever. It was a nice view regardless of where Altair was actually looking. 

Being the shorter half of the relationship had it’s benefits, Altair decided, Because when you were together it was like having your own personal lounge chair that was nice and warm and often times would cuddle you. Or at least Connor did. Altar could appreciate that.

 


	37. Safekeeping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for Dread on Tumblr cause they're a lil tit who makes me care too much about Boston recruits!

[[x](http://dreadelion.tumblr.com/)]

_“Hold on to this for me till I come get it,_ “Duncan had said that two weeks ago before leaving with Stephane to go help Connor in New York.

Clipper hadn’t been able to join them, no matter how much he’d tried to insist. He’d been running a fever and both the older men told him to just get some rest and get better. Let the lads take care of him. So he’d stayed behind and Duncan had left him with his rosary. He’d promised to keep it safe for Duncan until he returned.

That had been two weeks ago and now Clipper was better. Stephane and Duncan hadn’t come home yet though. He’d heard about Connor though, because news traveled like the wind about that kid. But no news from the others. He didn’t want to admit he was worried, but he was. He hoped they were okay.

There was a meeting going on around him. Sam was talking about what they were going to do about the British. Clipper wasn’t listening to him though even though he knew he should be. He was the best gun they had. Instead he was sitting in the back, Duncan’s rosary wrapped around his fingers pressed up against his lips that moved in silent prayer. He wanted the others to be safe and come home.

“Clipper,” the sound of his name made him look up, Sam was looking right at him, “You listening?”

He blinked at Mr. Adams, “No sir,” he said foolishly, “Sorry sir. Was just asking for some extra help from the man upstairs is all.”

“Aye, we’ll need all the help we can get,” Sam nodded, “But best pay attention, we’re going to need your help.”

“Of course, sir,” he nodded and unwound the rosary from his hand and put it around his neck, tucking the silver cross under his clothes.


End file.
